Archive for Poetry

TWLOHA

{ November 12, 2009 @ 10:48 pm } · { Poetry }
{ } · { Leave a Comment }

Tomorrow is To Write Love On Her Arms day. You better believe I will be writing love on my arm, and I ask you to do it too. For those of you unaware of TWLOHA, it was founded to raise awareness about self-harm, depression and suicide. While thinking about TWLOHA, I decided to write a poem about the struggles and addictions I’ve seen people walk through and the courage that I see them have. You are never as alone as you feel. If you ever wonder “does anyone care?” I assure you, people DO care and you ARE loved. It’s never too late to run into the arms of love, it’s never too late to stop what has been started. There IS hope, I promise.

“Forms”
Ice cold,
poured out like a poison,
dripping from my veins,
without reason.

Super sweet,
begin to weep,
sip it down,
before you drown.

Shattered glance,
last romance,
lock and key,
is all you’ll see.

Flickering computer screen,
naive at fifteen,
consequences unseen,
actions become routine.

Words cutting down,
making her bleed,
anger renowned,
it is but the seed.

She was too young,
too fragile to be broken,
prayed he’d be done,
sorry was never spoken.

Flashing lights,
hands behind bars,
sleepless nights,
more then physical scars.

Images in red,
violence to be said,
cries in the night,
silent at the light.

Empty handed,
completely alone.
Taken for granted,
nothing shown.

Reaching to the sky,
we realize we are not too far gone.
our need we do not deny,
You give us strength to move on.

I also wrote a poem to my friends fighting battles that I can’t be there for you through.

“Fighting Alone”
It’s not my battle to fight,
I’m oceans away,
I’m missing you tonight.
So much I want to say.
Words couldn’t make it out,
even while you were here,
darkness about,
I feel your fear.
Why is it that I want to be your savior?
Ride up on my horse and snatch you away.
I cannot cure the disease of your behavior,
and I watch it destroy you one more day.
Feeling so distant from your situation,
mouth to miles, it takes time to inform,
I’m finding myself desperate for information,
as if simply knowing will calm the storm.
the water is beginning to rise,
I feel it surging in my chest,
this is no surprise,
but I lay my fear to rest.
Crucify them on a tree,
I turn and face the sun,
where at last I am free.
I’ll point you to the one,
who holds you through the storm,
I’ll hold you until it’s done,
knowing His grace will transform,
beauty for ashes,
mercy and grace,
greatness crashes,
at the sight of his face.

So….here I am.

{ September 2, 2009 @ 9:54 pm } · { Poetry }
{ } · { Comments (1) }

So….. here I am Lord,
a collision of panicked thoughts.
Swirling, consuming, overwhelming.
I feel like an elephant is on my chest,
My lungs fail to inflate.
I. can’t. breathe.

So…here I am Lord.
I’m fighting internally.
In a boxing ring,
of my flesh and spirit.
Fists up, but I’m believing,
I. can’t. win.

So…here I am Lord.
It’s just me.
I’m worried.
it’s about tomorrow again.
Insecure. Afraid. Knowing I’ve failed before.
I. can’t. stand. It.

So…here I am Lord.
I keep looking at the picture.
Wondering why….again.
I thought I was over this.
Why now?
I. can’t. get. Over. It.

So….here I am Lord.
the timing all seems all off
are you sure this is your plan?
it just seems so crazy
here, there, back again.
I. can’t. keep. Moving.

So….here I am Lord.
my future in front of me
my past behind
why do I doubt you?
why do I hide?
I. can’t. keep. This. Up.

So…here I am Lord.
I’ve given up.
and it’s the best place to be.
Surrounded by the comfort,
of eternity.
I. am. Dying.

So here I am Lord,
Dying to me.
and my panic.
the belief I will fail.
fear of the future.
regret of the past.
my crazy schedule.
and everything
that keeps me from you.

Found

{ August 28, 2009 @ 11:25 pm } · { Poetry }
{ } · { Leave a Comment }

A thousand different choices, one path to take,
1,000 different glances, one heart of mine to break.
Hesitations- I’m finding this harder than before,
Destinations-which one will lead to a cure?
So many emotions bottled up inside,
So many tears I choose to leave uncried.
Could the past be different? Could there be another way?
Why am I left speechless, so many words, none to say?
Why do I approach you so many times,
Scared of your reaction, afraid to rewind?
My arms fly up to cover my face,
I am found in a state of utter disgrace.
I see my life pass me by,
into the dark I fly to hide.
Somewhere where you cannot see,
my shattered life consuming me.
but as I fall to my knees,
lying in the pit of my disease
I find myself flat on my face,
for I have tripped on the branch of grace.
I crawl into your waiting arms,
and become free of all my harms.
I feel your warm embrace,
biter salt on my tongue I taste,
your tears becoming the ones I cannot cry,
your grace covering my every sin and lie.
I stand back and watch amazed
composure I cannot maintain.
I stand up and jump to my feet,
raise my hands, begin to weep.
Softly, softly you sing with me,
until at last I finally see,
The trust that I fight so much against,
Is not wasted when to your eyes I glace.
You’ll never hurt me, never let me down,
let us dance on this ground,
in you, forever I am found.

Portrait

{ July 23, 2009 @ 11:12 pm } · { Christianity, Poetry, adoption, church, college, friends, life }
{ } · { Leave a Comment }

I draw my inspiration for this poem from the broken stories I have heard this summer, the broken stories on my campus that I carry with me and the brokenness in my own life. If you know me well enough, maybe you will recognize some stories, or maybe you can relate to bits and pieces of a verse. I promise you, you’re not suffering in vain, your stories will not remain untold, and your hurt has never been unnoticed. If your reading this and your hurting, always remember that someone cares and you are loved-never give up.

“Portraits”
The hurt comes back to haunt my dreams,
I kneel so stifled by my silent screams,
You rise-slowely punching the life out of me,
I rise-I stand so still praying no one sees.

Terror in the night I awake,
not a noise will I ever make.
I don’t even call for you,
Because I know there’s nothing you can do.

A black eye for a blackened heart
you swore you would never depart
an open door and packed bags you left
and you wonder why I speak your name less.

Crippled anger, wounds that never heal,
fallen away from what I hold dear.
Searching for something-anything to satisfy,
I walk this desert land so dry.

Constant nagging, requiring perfection,
breaking your set direction,
Call me a rebal if you choose,
In the end it’s me you lose.

Have I lost my mind?
I search for nothing to find,
why does this come as no surprise?
It’s killing me inside.

A crippled life and crushed dreams,
There’s more then meets the eye it seems.
but today I let it all go,
and traded in my sorrow.

A frantic call in the night,
I pull out my car in a state of fright.
The stars have never seemed so near,
and the night has never been so clear.

A hospital bed and a dying breath,
without a goodbye you must be left.
Push away the sorrow, push away the tears,
and count down the many years.

A child is too young to leave the place they call home,
but now we have found ourselves again alone.
The laughter and the tears echo in our minds,
If only we could stop, and rewind.

In the middle of this mess,
I’m finding you’re all I have left.
In the midst of my weakness,
it’s my brokenness you bless.

Lessons from Philly

{ July 5, 2009 @ 7:41 pm } · { Christianity, Poetry, church, friends, internship }
{ } · { Leave a Comment }

Many of you know how I am serving as a Youth Intern this summer like I did  last summer. One of the peaks of working in Youth Ministry is being able to attend the trips with the Youth. This past week we went to Philadelphia to serve alongside Broad Street Ministry. Broad Street Ministry serves on South Broad Street in Center City, Philadelphia. BSM has a high emphasis on homeless outreach and outreach to those who have been burned by the church. The way they “do church” is radically different from the traditional Southern American church. They reach out to the artistic community around them and draw in crowds of people who typically would not dare to enter a church. I was touched by the ministry of BSM and honored to serve alongside the staff (five summer interns and a directerr). Each day our team (my team leader was the best-yay for Anna Shaw!!!) went to a different project, everything from ripping up hundred year old carpet, cleaning alongside recovering drug and alcohol addicts in a recovery program called New Jerusalem Now, serving at a homeless ministry called St. John’s Hospice and labeling cans of food for the largest food bank in PA, Philabundence, and preparing for Broad Street’s homeless ministry, Breaking Bread. We encountered many injustices and grappled with the underlying issues behind them.

One day I experienced something that changed my world forever and it was found in something as simple as singing “Happy Birthday” to a homeless man. I have never been so happy, and never felt so free as when I was belting out those simple words and watching his face turn from heaviness to delight. I didn’t really think of it at the time, but it was all I really could give. Half of me was going “What the heck are you doing?” and 1/2 of me was going ”You were called to this.” When it was over, the look on his face was amazing. Just to know that I somehow lightened a little bit of his load really encouraged me.

 Sometimes I got overwhelmed to think of all the suffering that I saw in Philly and continue to see now that I am home. How can I make a difference? I’ll be honest, I’ve been tired these past few months. Since school ended I’ve felt myself change and I don’t really like the change that occurred. I feel like I lost a little bit of me, and a bit of my joy. I’ve been too easily burdened with injustices in my own life and sorrows that I have experienced to really feel like myself. Don’t get me wrong, even on my darkest days there is a line where I cannot cross-I am still rejoicing in Christ, but I just was not myself. I feel like I’m getting myself back though this trip. I’m writing poetry again, I’m laughing, and I’m excited (although stressed at times!) for my summer, or what is left of it. I still carry around the faces I met on this trip to Philly. I remember the men and woman who are brave enough to admit they need help at New Jerusalem now and the man who took the time to help share his story and advise me despite his own sorrows. God keeps giving me glimpses of Him-enough to keep going-and going-and going. He doesn’t promise that the path will be easy, painless, enjoyable or not exhausting. He doesn’t promise we won’t spend time in the wilderness, in sorrow, in constant questions and exaustion (infact, He says it will be like that)but He gives us the grace to endure despite our circumstances, and help others along the way. While in Philly I dusted off the old Poetry journal and I’d like to share a poem I wrote with you. I did some edits since Friday, but it’s still basically the same.

“Broken life, Broken dreams,
Neverending silent screams,
Walking by in plenty of need,
Watching you as you bleed.
I’ve ignored the injustice of your case,
Stereotyped your complex race,
Blinded eyes and deafened ears,
Heart is locked with no tears.
Help me, I don’t want to feel.
Help me, the pain is so real.
Why is it that I just want to hide?
Shove it away, due to pride.
Well, today I’m changing my perspective,
Although the time has come and I’ve almost left this,
With my bags I carry all the faces,
inside my heart the many changes.
As we walk towards eternity,
the path I’m on only You can see.
I feel your hand stabilizing my frame,
and I press on, all for the sake of your name.

{ June 24, 2009 @ 11:53 pm } · { Poetry, Uncategorized }
{ } · { Leave a Comment }

So here I am again. So many needs,
Craving your attention ’til I’m on my knees.
I can’t think straight and battle inside,
nothing to say, no tears to cry.
I can feel you stirring
with brokeness to bring
humbling, breaking me down,
I refuse to make a sound.
the sting of abandonment,
the last letter you sent.
the sorrow of loss,
over backwards I’ve bent.
I am myworst enemy
I admit I’m lost and I can’t see,
so what the heck are you doing
and why am I not moving?
when I feel you nudge,
holding this grudge…
bring me back to life
remove this knife
suddenly I am knocked to my knees
by the incredible grace you bring
weeping beside my enemy
now I’ve got eternity to see
whom I now call me.

Clouded Journey

{ February 2, 2009 @ 7:04 pm } · { Family, Poetry, church, friends, life }
{ Tags: , , } · { Leave a Comment }

I’ve been writing some people in a very difficult situation. They are in a place that no one would wish to be in. Some are there because of the consequence of a decition that they made-some are there because of unjust reasons. Through it all one thing they both mentioned was that they feel like they are in the middle of a storm. I wrote this poem (really quickly, it’s not my best work) in hopes to encourage them to find peace in Christ in the middle of their storm.

The clouds gather on our journey,
Often covering our view of Him.
Our thoughts scrambled, chaotic, and unruly,
but we finally find peace within.
Although our storm may not disappear,
And rain may continue to fall-
He holds us through our fear,
when we find Him to be our all and all.
There are somethings we cannot change,
Often we fight His hand in our life.
“If only this he’d rearrange-
There would be so much less strife”
But we forget so easily
Of His grace and mercy so sweet.
Finding more of Him in less of me-
Where strength and suffering meet.

All I need.

{ January 29, 2009 @ 10:33 pm } · { Christianity, Family, Poetry, life }
{ Tags: , , , , } · { Leave a Comment }

Let’s face it, when God comes and does work on your heart that is not always easy. He seems to dredge up all these emotions we’ve left unfelt and uninvited and throw them out before us even years later then we initially felt them. If you’re like me and a person who bottles your emotions, you’ve got a lot down in there you’re still holding onto.  I don’t know about you but I stand back wondering, gee, why didn’t I losen my hold on that hurt years ago? Yesterday was one of those days where God just kind of came into my heart and did survay. We fought (He won), He asked, and I gave. It’s amazing how the act of surrender can heal so much brokeness. It’s exausting, but so good. I wrote this poem about his breaking, and healing.

With fragile feet I’ve found myself dancing in the pouring rains of sorrow,
moving to the rhythm of your healing I am lost within your fond embrace.
The worries of tomorrow, suffocating me-but finally- the pains of today melt away,
In the glory of your beauty and the consuming aroma of your love I am speechless-lacking words to say.
I am a crippled, silenced dancer, but it’s in my suffering that you complete,
I am a burdened heart and a crushed spirit, but it’s for you I come to meet.
I am forsaken, abandoned, damaged and afraid,
I have no wisdom, no consuming plans have I made.
I just sit here silently although inside I am caught in the ocean,
The tide pounding on the shore with every emotion.
Pull up a seat to watch the waves of hurt and misery roll in,
while I stand in the middle clinging to the one with no sin.
HE is my stability in the shifting sands of change,
He is the only thing I have when things rearrange.
When all else fails and people leave, I’m finding the reality is He’s all I need.

Abuse

{ January 27, 2009 @ 11:11 pm } · { Christianity, Family, Poetry, church, friends, life }
{ Tags: , , , , , , , } · { Leave a Comment }

Recently I was talking to a dear friend of mine and the issue of abuse came up. I started this poem adressing one form of abuse, and ended addressing several. Let’s face it, abuse is prevalent in our society. It is hidden better then ever before, but it is still very much a part of our lives. If you or someone you love is being abused, stand up and be heard. Do not let shame hide you. Your Father in heaven sees you (like I talked about in my previous post), and He cares for you. If you have been abused in the past, there is healing and hope in Christ Jesus. What has been done to you was wrong, and injust. Your father grieves with you and for you. He alone can heal your wounds, and restore your brokeness. Cry out to Him, and He will rescue you. Reach out for Him, and He will be strong to save. Reach out to others who love you (atleast one earthy person does, me….and I’m sure you have others too) and ask for help-you don’t have to go through this alone. Don’t let your abuser take more of you then they already have.

Fragile Wings Fly
I was only young,
I looked up to you,
You cut your knife into me,
watching me bleed…using me too.
Your goal was for your power,
Your mind to set on stealing me away.
You took more then you gave to me,
and robbed my innocence away.
Everytime I heard you,
I wanted just to hide.
Everytime I saw you,
I blamed myself inside.
Your anger always burned,
Your wrath destroyed,
Your tongues was always aflame,
And I’ve been burned, no one to blame.
I was like a child,
I hid away,
longing for the final day.
Finally you left me,
and I let go of you,
When I found someone to love,
more then when I had you.
He told me I was beautiful,
Lovely, and full of worth.
He saved my life and my soul,
and rescued me from earth.
Dying on a cross,
A sacrifice so grand.
through His loss,
I can stand.
I’ll admit that in my dreams,
sometimes I hear your voice,
I feel my fear begin to paralyze
and remember your remorse.
You say that you are sorry
but how can that possibly be
when you continue to hurt me.
what’s the line of grace
and line of abuse?
when I’ve been broken,
what’s the use?
I swear I won’t be like you,
but how can I know for sure?
It starts today
It ends tonight
my battle begins
with my strength I’ll fight.
I hate abuse
I hate injustice,
so let me end this rhyme,
and fight another time.
This time its different,
This time I’m for sure,
You don’t have ahold of me,
Because God’s got who I’ll be.

Waterdrops and Throns

{ January 8, 2009 @ 4:12 pm } · { Poetry, college }
{ Tags: , , , } · { Leave a Comment }

I need water.

I love water. There’s something about it. Since I was a child it has been my comfort. The shower, the ocean, the pool, a river, or pond, or lake- anything with water is my favorite place to be. You see, water refreshes. It holds. It hides tears and brokenness. You can outswim any sorrows. You can beat it, and it won’t hurt anything. You can do anything to it, and it’ll be okay. Water quenches thirst. Water surrounds.

Yesterday it rained. It rained all day long. It rained, and rained, and rained. Something inside of me just wanted to walk in the rain. Just wanted to be in the rain, to feel it, to taste it, to be surrounded by it. So I did. I walked out the door, and into the rain. Rain is the full sensory experience. You can taste, see, smell, hear and feel it. It envelops and surrounds you. You cannot outrun it if it stands over you. Many times we curse the rain, but many times we bless it. As I was on my walk I was overcome with emotion. See, I’ve been reading a lot about letting God romance me, and I figured out rain romances me. It awakens all my senses and lets me thrive. 

As I was walking back from some time with my creator I was filled with this incredible joy and peace. I knew that I had encountered God’s heart while I stood for hours looking at the water falling on a small lake by our house. Throughout the time I was free to just sing praises unashamed because I knew no one could hear me. I was free to dance because I knew no one would see me. I was free to be who I wanted to be because there was only one person who was with me, the Lord Jesus. It wasn’t all fun and games. He did a lot of work on my heart while I was there. It’s exausting, but it’s refreshing. I took the time to enjoy Him, to let Him move in my heart. To take the raindrops that had beaded up on the thorns run onto my finger, to touch the water in the lake and feel the coldness of it, to just be free.

Walking back I heard the sound of running water. The sound of water dripping from anywhere, rushing from anywhere brings this feeling of security to me, it awakens me. As I took the time to look closer as to where the sound was coming from I saw that it was from a waterfall of water gushing into this storage drain. The water was gushing down the hill and running into this drain-the water was far from beautiful, far from romantic, it was just another county storage drain water. The water that was running down the drain was not pretty-no, infact it was muddy. It was full of filth and junk. Despite the fact that the water itself could do no one any help, it was making one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve heard in a long time. Then it hit me. This is my life. No matter what I do I cannot seem to do enough right. I always mess up. I become muddy again. I poison the pure water that I have been given and yet God takes this crappy water and He purifies it, and the process sounds to Him as beautiful. Nothing of the sound of it becoming beautiful has anything to do with what I can do. Everything is about Him making what little I do offer into something that is pleasing to Him, through Jesus Christ alone.

waterdrops from branches of thorns,
reminding me of the grace that adorns,
human suffering and pain,
that won’t leave us the same.
You take my feeble offerings,
all that is within me sings,
I have nothing to offer,
nothing in my coffer.
brokeness, and mystery,
all of you is less of me,
broken becomes my best friend,
Your grace I can not comprehend.
Rain, so much rain, bringing water to the land,
in this mud and mire I can no longer stand,
You restore me and bring me back,
with Your love you attack.
You blow me away,
without words to say,
You leave me breathless in the cold,
nothing unsaid, nothing untold.
Your beauty mapped out for me,
I can bearly stand to see,
Fall to my face,
for your grace.
Surround everything inside this heart,
please, never depart,
I cling to your feet,
I refuse to take a seat.
I stand before your throne,
In You I am never alone.
You wrap Your arm around my shoulder,
removing what I used to see as my bolder,
Throwing it off with ease,
You’ve captured me.
My King, I fall to my knees,
to the one who sees,
Fall to my face,
And get lost in this place.

« Previous entries