Do angels weep when I have lost
and laid myself down in the dirt?
And does creation grown again
when I have made my own self hurt?
Long I wait to break on through
And hold to something I don’t know
I search for freedom and for peace
Every time I go.
But I cannot in faith hold fast
as weak as I now am
and so I pray that God would keep
and take me to that shore.
“The heart is deceitful above all else”
So the saying goes
It wants what it wants and tides cannot stop
the secret workings inside.
what if my dreams came true?
What if they are merely broken misspent fantasies
wasting time and souls in dark delusions?
What have I been wanting that now begins to crack?
And what will take its place?
There is no forgiveness in them
I pray that I would heal
and that in time I may myself
learn to forgive as well.
I couldn’t bear the thought of permission
and so I went to sleep
and morning came on heavy fast
with no time for myself.
Have you ever been gripped by fear of yourself?
The problem is always me.
Potential and trust like shattered pots lay thick about my soon to be grave.
You cannot fake faith or repentance or hope.
The after effects are like sand being scraped on the inside of your skull
and my heart feels like it has been beaten
My spirit hides and waits for Him
and so I soldier on.
This is not my best idea
And will for losses be replayed
Here now I set forth in the dark
And hope to God I won’t be swayed.
And I got a call.
You are always doing something mundane when you get them.
When I got there
he was sitting on the floor
with a gun to his head
just like I used to do…
When I took the loaded gun from his hand
I did not have much to say
I did not want him to die
but I did not judge or become enraged
because I had not wanted to live myself–
not since sometime in the eighties, anyways.
I felt so powerless
and numb inside
as if things like this had happened one too many times
and that one time was twenty times ago.
Sometimes it hurts to breathe
and fun and laughter feel like daggers
sometimes I just stare into my coffee cup.
No one likes a whiner
and someone’s always got it worse
but we don’t feel safe opening up to each other,
and most of us
pretend that that ain’t true.
Let the north wind carry my heart to Jesus
Let the high snows cover my soul in silence
Let the rocky peaks rise to meet my spirit
and let me bow my knee to my king.
Peace is elusive on some warm nights
Fires that burn demand immediate perspective
Gentle breezes can mislead.
I don’t believe in myself
And that is probably wise
Although most who would disagree would also
not take those words so seriously.
I wonder at little
Which makes me very sad
because I have that kind of soul
that just wants to explore.
I don’t dance enough
and probably should say thank you more
but really, I should start with obedience.
It was never promised that right and good
would be easy at all
and I was indeed warned
that it would hurt.