The white flag is raised—
tattered and torn, it whips back and forth in the wind.
I surrender—
there is no fight left in me.

My spirit is limp—
tattered and torn, it whips back and forth in the wind.
Weariness like a mountain weighs upon my shoulders.
There is no fight left in me.

I am overcome with despair.
My spirit is limp—
where is my hero now?
Weariness like a mountain weighs upon my shoulders.

“All-consuming-yet-never-satisfied-wants[1]” declare victory—
I am overcome with despair.
A conquering power brings the enemy to its knees[2]—
where is my hero now?

Two sets of hands reach for me—only one may claim me.
“All-consuming-yet-never-satisfied-wants” declare victory—
but faith will overcome.
A conquering power brings the enemy to its knees.

There is another who fights for me—
I surrender
to the one whose blood was shed in victory.
The white flag is raised.

[1] Galatians 5:19-21, MSG
[2] 1 John 5:4, MSG

depression food overload poetry reflection spiritual growth weight