He Who Makes Beautiful Things Out of The Dust

I refuse to live without Him.

Time and time again

He’s patiently lifted me up as I stumble

 As a father does when His child learns to walk.

 

Sorrow. The kind that after the quake; comes in waves

The tsunami comes flooding in the more

you try to understand why they took their life;

the heavy weight of their eternity drags me under.

 

Addiction. The kind that is not physically damaging

but steals joy in the purest sense

The pit grows in my stomach as I fall into my cage

 Slamming against the cold bars.

 

Fear. The kind that nails my mouth shut

I cannot tell them about His love

I find my body being dragged

by the heels, by my weary spirit.

 

The warlord rubs my face in my failures

his heel crushing my skull

But I’m pulled up gently

A soft silk passes over my face taking the dirt with it.

 

I am not yet free

And won’t be until I am carried in his arms to my true home

He pulls me above the surface of my sorrow where I can breathe

And I have joy in the midst of the vastness

 

 He unlocks the latch to my cage

 And reminds me what it is like to fly

His spirit multiplies the strength of my own,

And my mouth along with their eyes open wide.

 

I embrace Him

just as He has put his arms around me

All of the sorrow

All of the addiction

All of the fear

It makes me realize that

I refuse to live without Him.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

psd2592

Loved this. 

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741