closeddoors

Have #Introvert #coworker who used to occassionally chat with others, but has #isolated herself almost completely in her #Office #closeddoors every day after got in #relationship #married .

Purpose. Direction.  Rest.

Closed doors, stalled ship and dropped anchor.

The couch of stability, stained with stagnant sweat.

I could be doing more, but I’m doing enough.  And that’s O.K.

I’m pacing the ship.

I’m trying to peer through the fog.

I’m wondering what’s next,

But I can’t see much from the crow’s next.

Maybe I’m right where I belong, at least for now.

Timber calls me.

I long to grab and join.

Create, plan, join, learn,

Enjoy – it’s something I’d enjoy.

But as for a landing place, I’m out of sorts

Because I can’t see any welcoming ports

Through the fog.

Poetry is my traveller’s blog,

When I wish to know The Captain’s log,

But perhaps I’m looking for the course myself

and how to get there

Instead of trusting that The Captain knows what’s best for me,

And that maybe, where I need to be is right here?

Maybe the ship will never land

Would that sit well with me?

If I just remained here with The Captain?

Maybe instead of doing, it’s knowing who I am

Valued, Purposefully Identified

In The Captain crucified.

Is that enough for me?

To know that He has calmed stormy seas

And is right here, beside me?

Yes!  It is enough for me, or it should be.