friends

Who knew that all we are
are pieces of clay shattered from a great fall,
our sharp edges poking and prodding and digging
into splits that have yet to be fixed,
cracks that we did not know were there.

Much has escaped from the lips that I’ve tried to keep sealed,
like blood spilling out in between the fingers of a hand pressed firmly against an open wound.
And many stumbles and unforeseen hurdles have overcome my clumsy feet,
forcing me to meet the ground of the narrow path that I’ve struggled to tread
(struggling then,
and struggling still).

But if it’s true,
that Love covers over all wrongs,
as sons spreading their garment over a drunken father to conceal his nakedness,
I feel the weight of a thousand blankets,
piled atop the undressed surface of flesh that’s been exposed too much for comfort.

And if it’s true,
that you and I are the broken limbs of the unbroken body that was broken for us,
I feel the moments spent broken with you are shattered fragments that dazzle like wet pavement in the light of the day,
more stunning, more radiant and in ever increasing brilliance
as we’re held between the fingers of the one who stoops to pick us up and make us whole.

sounds the sun can make:

We’re driving through the countryside,
carving a tunnel through thick wet air—
saturated layers of steamy breath
pressed against the earth,
currently perforated by a million drops of rain.
Some are sleeping, others quietly conversing,
most are sitting silent, like me.

I am watching and wondering how
the way the water, dripping and coursing its way
down the other side of this window,
is exactly like
the way my tears drip and course their way
down the sides and corners of my face,

or

the way
blood
might trickle
down
from
a leaking heart.

But
I am also watching and wondering how
the way the sun sounds, laughing and dancing
as he withdraws from his chambers,
is exactly like
the way the moon sounds on cold dark nights
when she laughs and dances among the starry hosts,

or

the way
You
sound
when You
breathe
into
my ear.

You’re here.

I heard a voice calling out my name.

As I followed it through fields and meadows,
the sun’s rays descended softly upon my cheeks,
the way clean cotton linens can feel
against newly shaven skin in the summertime
(or like steam thinly wafting up from a mug of hot cocoa
held close to your face in mitten-clad hands).
The grass was cool and squishy between my toes,
the sound of sweet waters laughed nearby,
and somewhere deep within,
my spirit’s song was born.
This fertile world—
new, awake, and pulsating with promises of life,
would never end, I thought,
until upon meadow after meadow, and field after field,
I reached the grassy earth’s edge.
The voice bid me to continue on with such sweet tenderness
that without a moment’s hesitation,
or rebellious inclination,
with all my heart and soul I answered,
“YES!”

I ventured on until the sun swelled in size
and burned in a red and sweltering rage.
The grass between my toes soon became
tiny grainy embers that seemed to hiss with every step I took,
and with squinted eyes, as I looked ahead
for miles and miles, (and miles and miles and miles)
before me lay a barren wasteland,
despised like bones sucked clean and dry
(or like an old flesh wound that once bled,
then pussed,
then scabbed, until finally
it scarred over big and dark and ugly).
Each second seemed a thousand years heaping into millenniums,
and all the while the voice I heard so clearly before
reduced into a quiet whisper.
I strained my ears to hear it as it led me all the way,
through the wasted deserts, down to the lowly valleys,
when finally

the sun grew tired and subsided in his raging fury.
As he began to rest his weary head, darkness was aroused.
He beat the sun into the ground
till all that was left was a thick expanse of blackness,
punctured by a pitiful dim beam of light which was the moon.
The air grew heavy quickly with silence and with cold,
then colder still around me, piercing through my skin like knives
until I was unable to distinguish
where I ended and the atmosphere began.
Loneliness assaulted me with cruel and sudden force as I sat
and drew my knees up toward my chest, wishing to sink
like the sun into the earth and disappear forever.
The voice had led and left me to the night,
alone and despairing.
I closed my eyes and hoped to die
when I felt my chin being gently lifted.
I saw the moon,
pale and white, peculiar in its glowing
and as I gazed upon its beauty,
a still small voice reached my ears and whispered
faintly,
yet clearly,
“Keep going.”

Staring at the moon in wonder,
I gathered together what life I had left
of my pathetic spirit and broken beaten body,
and though I could not stand, I crawled instead,
my eyes still fixed upon the moon.
As I crawled
(and crawled and crawled),
soon enough the sun came up,
and when its light touched down
upon the earth, it revealed the world around me—
flowers, trees, and grassy knolls, life
in abundance flourishing, buzzing,
thriving in far greater measures
than I’d ever encountered before, and a voice—
so beautiful and sweet—
it said to me,
“Thank you.
Thank you
for trusting in me.
Oh, how I am so proud of you,
you, my little darling.”

The God Who Runs

my first post and poem. be nice.

———————————————————————–

I dared to go before the Lord to beg and plead for mercy,
and there I stood, outside His courts—ashamed, afraid, unworthy.
Soiled rags hung in defeat from my broken hallowed frame.
Still I prayed in desperation for the eyes of God to miss my shame.

And as I reached with trembling hand to open heaven’s door
the glory of the Lord shone forth and crushed me to the floor.
Amidst God’s terrible brilliance, there before His throne,
I crawled towards Him whose hands I’d hoped held power to atone.

“Mercy! Mercy!” I cried as tears coursed down my foul face.
Surely He beholds my wicked heart, my shame and my disgrace.
Yet in a sudden flurry the glory around had disappeared.
I found myself in open country; the air was crisp, and skies were clear.

My head and hands hung weary as I trudged beside the grassy fields
along a narrow path of dirt, my shame and sorrow still revealed.
Yet to my surprise, upon the horizon, came the figure of a running man
struggling to keep his heavy robes from hindering him as he ran.

When he came nearer I could see that tears had stained his face.
He seized me violently in his arms and held me in his strong embrace.
Before he permitted a word to be uttered he joyfully cried out,
“Quick, new robes! Prepare the feast! She has finally been found!”

As I gazed into his eyes (what love that swells in pools so full and deep!)
They pierced my heart and unashamedly I began to weep.
He kissed my face again and again, while tenderly I heard him say,

“My precious child,
listen closely when I say,
nothing can and ever will
drive my love away.”