Wednesday, October 12, 2011

I stood with the trees but the trees didn't care,
just fluttered their leaves to the moving air.
I stood by the creek as the tears ran hotter,
but creeks don't care, just move their water.
I stood in the shade of a passing boulder,
unmoved and unmoving; we grew silent and older.
I threw myself down in the arms of the grass,
but it whispered apologies and let me pass.
Nothing in this world can answer my heart
(how many the questions when once I start).
Nothing in this world can calm my grief
(how brief the glory of the flaming leaf).

Monday, October 10, 2011

"Be slow to pray. Praying most often doesn't get us what we want but what God wants, something quite at variance with what we conceive to be in our best interests. And when we realize what is going on, it is often too late to go back. Be slow to pray." (Eugene Peterson, Working the Angles: the Shape of Pastoral Integrity, p. 44) quoted in Prayer: Does It Make Any Diffrence, by Philip Yancey.

I hesitate to wake today,
for fear I may meet God,
and any meeting lead to knowledge
wider than I thought.
To stay would be the comfortable,
easiest of things;
God could be out there anywhere
and draw me with strong strings.
Oh, never mind, the truth is now,
for even as I slept
the Lord was lurking deep within,
preparing me for depth.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

2:08 a.m.

He doesn't even have existence anymore.
Must he lose even my remembrance of him?
Just because it hurts me to think of him
And how unfair it is that he was cut off
Like a voice in mid-song
And how it hurts to miss that music that he is not anymore,
does that mean I can stop thinking about him?
Just because I am tired of the bone-jarring sobs
The soul-shaking breath-taking stomach-aching sobs,
Does that mean I can turn over and rest in sleep?
Wildly loved, now passionately mourned.
Deeply needed, now painfully missed.
I don't understand but i'll stay awake anyway.