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Where I Fall Short

Love is a choice like the rising sun,
Made again each morning, never done.
An hourly vow, a minute’s prayer,
A decision renewed in the open air.

I fall short like a storm that won’t release,
When anger lingers and steals my peace.
When hurt takes root like a stubborn weed,
And I water the wound instead of the seed.

I fall short like a ghost behind a screen,
Present in body but never seen.
My family a garden, left in the shade,
While I tend to a world that will quickly fade.

I fall short when my words become blades,
Sharp as the winter when warmth evades.
My actions a mirror of all that I say,
Cutting the ones I was made to protect today.

I fall short like a dam that holds back the rain,
When I clutch my forgiveness and hand out the pain.
A river of grace I was meant to release,
But I bottle it up and I forfeit the peace.

I fall short like a field left fallow and bare,
When laziness settles like dust in the air.
Where harvest was promised, I offer neglect,
And the ones I love most bear the full effect.

I fall short like the moon that forgets it must shine,
When I make every moment and every need mine.
Demanding my season, my comfort, my turn,
While the one who needs tending continues to burn.

I fall short — yes, I fall short every day.
But grace is the hand that points out the way.
God lifts the mirror and whispers, not yet —
There’s more love in you, child. Don’t you forget.