Usually, after writing a poem, I feel okay about it. It’s rare to think I’ve hit on something good. This one…it leaves me wondering.
I wrote, tweaked, paused, tweaked (repeat) and then just wanted to rewrite the whole thing. Then, I realized that pride and vulnerability were duking it out. I believe an artist’s job is to lay themselves bare so that those experiencing it can be confident in its honesty and receive permission to do be just as vulnerable. Pride, though…
This stanza is the one I like best, but it still feels inadequate.
faith is the reach to touch the thorns
and wounded hand with pierced bone
to stand exposed in one’s own flesh
a shouldered cross to eternal rest
It’s inspired by the crucifixion of our Savior, with a nod to Thomas’ interaction after Christ’s resurrection, and Christ’s call to carry up our cross and follow Him. I am thankful that faith is from the Spirit and not from my own understanding. I would be a lost cause.
faith is a leaping in the chest
when love’s intention is confessed
a lifetime scribed in starry pen
imagining all which will have been
faith is a gleam in mourning eyes
with tears that nurture memories
sobs that seep through tilted smile
and linger willingly awhile
faith is one hidden, huddled and hushed
in darkened corners, choking dust
whispered prayers through worried lips
pleading for the scale to tip
faith is the reach to touch the thorns
and wounded hand with pierced bone
to stand exposed in one’s own flesh
a shouldered cross to eternal rest
faith is the peace confounding all
even the sheep who hear His call
who follow where the Shepherd goes
and faith becomes the thing that grows
a tilting of air 