to every ache that rattled my veins:
i should not have let you steal from me,
i should not have let you dig your hands into my soul.
thank you for showing me that i am strong.
because of you,
i have learned how to fall on my knees and pray.
you meant to drown me,
but i was already drowning in Gods grace.
thank you for pointing me to my savior.
i’ve been sinking on the low,
cradling my broken pieces in between bent arms,
trying to figure out what i’m going to do with them.
but i forgot that i didn’t have to figure it out alone,
because along with the puzzle, my heart was a riddle Einstein wouldn’t have the brains to solve.
i forgot who went before me,
followed behind me,
and in desperate times, carried me.
He knows my heart and has solved the riddle ages ago,
now we are both waiting:
i wait for him to show me what my eyes cannot see
he waits for me to realize that he is all that i need.
i wait for Jesus.
let me see Jesus.
Cries for help
Are muffled by the hands
Of those that
Sit on the titling and vulnerable axis of the earth.
And they only
Arms outstretched in selfish ambition,
To collect the shiny, useless things they crave and devour.
Take what’s yours to take.
The people will suffer but,
If you were to spend a day, week–
God forbid! A month…
In their bottomless, worn out shoes,
You would crumble.
Because you are made of straw.
The dirt of this earth, the essence of essential and the basis of our foundation,
Stack them all real high,
Apply some pressure,
And you get steel and brick,
Strong enough to weigh down that paper house of yours.
Shut them up,
But listen closely
To the chains snapping and falling, quite surely,
To the ground.
In spite of it all; watch them fall.
I lied to you because the moment was right.
I said I would give you every bit and piece of myself, but the truth is,
I’m storing some in my soul just in case you get frusterated with the puzzle.
I’m sorry for being a wanderer. And a doubter. And a confused little child.
I mimick the road I see instead of the destination of glory.
It’s a habit I’m trying to break,
Along with all the other chains.
But I guess that’s my problem.
I take my problems into my own hands and try to stitch things together with a makeshift sewing mechine and clumsy fingers.
My clammy palms always cause me to slip up and nearly mess up the masterpiece…
I have learned to run back into my arms when the unknown is a bit of a jump.
I am the clay.
I need to learn to be still as I am being molded.
I will rise
Though the target is
Cut into my back
And my strength seems to be
And the thorns in my side
Have come alive
And the dark days
Have come back to devour
I keep moving to the beat of
I keep marching on
To claim what’s rightfully mine
Because my father sits on a throne
And so I am heir to a king,
The fall comes at a price
That he has paid
This end has to be a good one,
This journey has to greet the heavens
I have to win
I have been set up for victory.
Though the demons know where to dig their nails into,
My father knows where to heal, where to patch up, where to strengthen
So you see,
He is unstoppable,
So am I.