4/3/18

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Day 92

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Daffodils in bloom. 

Fragility lifted high. 

No question of goodbye. 

Father, this haiku.

Word always forward motion.

Simplicity true.

Speak now or forever hold. 

Your peace whispers, let go now. 

Catch me as I fall low.

silence. how you grow.

A breath filling up the mouth. 

Not even an echo. 

God, where are you here?

The flowers are surrendered.

I have no answer. 

so i could see his face again

  

I’ve been working on this since I woke up this morning. I love how God is using my weakeness to remind me of his strength. I didn’t like how he told me to write some of the letters of ‘turned’ backwards & then turn the last three forward, as if he’s facing you. I thought no one would get it. And then I thought I was going to run out of room towards “firm place to stand.” but there was still room. I botched the lips up at the bottom, but maybe it can represent how after screaming for so long, you’re not the sure God even hears you.

It’s not true. Because the birds outside sing like they have no other choice in the matter. The sun is shining like yesterday wasn’t full of greys. The magnolia tree in the backyard has blooms.

& though I have this unclear sadness heavy behind my eyes for reasons I don’t know, God is still on the throne, He’s still in control. He’s still watching me as every sparrow, if not more so.

He still finds me precious in his sight, though I still don’t know what he’s doing & I may be doubting a little.

But he’s the rock I’m clinging on. Though my flesh is screaming, Give up! He’s not coming for you, He’s not going to answer you! My spirit whispers: Take my peace upon you, don’t let go.

And I can’t. He promises the pure of heart will see him. And I don’t want to miss kindest face.

Plus, he knows I’m a tad blind, so it’s way too easy to be lead into darkness.

But how I crave his light.

Pruning

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Where the fence is low,

You come into view.

I am unfeeling,

kicking up dirt words

I've said, up we go, now

grow grow grow.

when times become

too much to handle.

Green stems easily remind

one is human.

Envy one’s possession.

Rank.

Let the root sour,

abdicating the headdress

crowning you unique.

A banner furling under

Siberia cold.

Pricked by cactus

in the valley

where nectar runs

empty till river crosses bend.

Soften this heavy rope

I can’t unknot binding my wrists

behind my back, as a secret

no one dares share.

Expectation leads to self-hatred

I was never meant to believe.

Why not trust the promises

You’ll continually take my right hand,

straightening these crooked paths

to the Jericho promised long ago.

I AM betrothed to you, Beloved,

whose cracks come clean

the more you lend your metamorphosis to the cocoon

I’ve chosen for you to hide away

your bloom for those needing

linger with love.

Turned Down

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The sound of silence

now hurting my heart,

doesn’t mean Your absence.

You’ve given my lament

room to slip tirelessly

off my heavy hearted tongue.

This love is what I’ve longed-

a seed blooming. no weather

withholding my growth.

My wish come true.

Yet the world spins madly on,

other flowers sway so gracefully

beside me.

The rain comes to water me.

I cannot cry, but I’ll lift my petals

for Your eyes see brevity.

I hear the wind.

Don’t question

My love always blowing

fragrance from others

such as you.

The flower beside you

isn’t meant to be seen

a dark passenger,

but a friend struggling

letting go control.

Do not envy, My blossom.

You may long uprooting,

but I know who needs

perfumed only from you.

Flowering Colors

Where I am, I shall unfold.

I wait to be sheltered in the Son,
splendorous light, heated completely.

Look at the ones surrounding you-
asking for answers, mouths scorching
& cowering becomes an earthy tradition timid bones as yours can’t seem to break.

Come, sit-rest your weariness upon shoulders unfailing.
Shh-I know the unrest shifting like rocks, waiting to be the avalanche willing you to lose timely breaths.

Jesus, rolls slowly off my tongue-
Us, you & I: married eternally,
but I can only see the weaving of a
dress unfit for a shaking body.

You look on me with grace,
lifting the veil patiently,
up, to reflect Light
given by You alone.