I wrote this poem one morning after thinking about how ridiculous my worries really are.
When I see the rationale behind my anxiety spelled out like this, I can’t believe that I actually fall for it.
Now Your affairs are my affairs, Of them I'll take much better care, For surely, God, from heaven's pomp You cannot know my deepest wants. You're far too busy ruling nations To notice my great deprivation I'll lift my burden from Your hands And carry it myself again. Don't worry, I will manage fine, You tend Your needs, I'll handle mine, Oh, how dense this weight has grown, It didn't seem so at Your throne. No matter, I'll take smaller steps, Release it? No! My care, my pet, I like it better here with me, Its outcome I can oversee. For if I cast it back on You, Control I will relinquish too, And I maintain authority By nurturing anxiety.