I wrote a poem this morning.
I did it during my quiet time. And this is no brag, friends, because I’ve been absent from daily hangouts with my Maker lately. Confession is liberating hey.
So I was perusing the scriptures and there was this compulsion to pull out my journal and write. So I did. Interrupted somewhat by a little person who wanted to be on my lap. Then off. Then on. Then crying because I said no.
Anyway. This is what resulted. I’m sharing it – not because I think it’s any rival to the likes of Tennyson or Keats – but because it was a creative act of worship, of honesty and oneness that you might like to try. For me, it was just a matter of picking up the pen and letting it lead me somewhere.
How do I describe you?
You are vapour, whiff, mirage,
question mark apparition,
something my head so swiftly calculates as void.
Sometimes you are here, deep in the core,
flame, heat searing outward,
flushed face, scalding desire.
Sometimes you are teeth grit and sweat,
hammer against steel, blisters, blood drip,
muscle clench, endless and never ending.
Sometimes you are cut glass light,
fluorescent bulb, candescence luming the marks,
stains, blots of conviction.
Sometimes I forget who you are and I lean on earth words,
spliced truths, sardine can adjectives, sugared vagaries,
minced teachings of grace and damnation.
Yet always, you are vine, rock, mountain,
anchor in this rollicking swell, here, taking all
from my shoulders, bleeding chalice, balm.