In the dark of this soul, my God I pant for You.
desperation tastes like dust
frustration narrows my throat
and mental circles can’t stop asking
“Why and where?”
Offering turns to turmoil
affliction throbs in my chest
and broken reasoning won’t quit saying
“Just. give. it. up.”
Bones have been crushed
flesh has been pierced
and incessant pressure keeps on giving
salt and acid, salt and acid.
but through the cracked earth
does the bloom still come!
beyond the cloud the light streams above
Hope is seen to float and yet is heavily anchored by love
more than the notion that everything may or may not happen for a reason or the ethereal ‘for all under the sun there is an appointed season.’
I cling to a message that maintains this shell could be destroyed and I’d still grow and gain
tthis discipline and chiseling away isn’t for nothing, isn’t in vain
so call it a crutch
call it what you may
but I’m convinced of a Cross, I’m persuaded by a name
Oh, yes I believe in caged birds that sing and bloody wings that still fly
arrow holes that may never close
but form and birth wounds which heal
and the death that leads to life.