My
strength eroded under the currents.
‘saw
the audacity of the waves,
And
nothing in me could withstand the turbulence.
the
poetry that, such a tragedy formerly inspired,
(nor
lofty books by CS Lewis),
Could
bring me to sufficient relief,
I
called out to God:
But he
managed my expectation for healing, with silence.
The
hollowness, the disorder, the distress…
Through
it all,
He
chose to remain silent,
Not
so much an epiphany (a verse) from him.
Just
hours and hours of muted attendance by the Holy Spirit.
Felt
my heart stagnant,
Felt
my mind constrained,
Like
I were all alone, in an empty galaxy.
My
feet failed,
And I
grew weary,
And
that sloppy observer of a friend,
noted
the absence of my God.
And
I, a feeble fledgling in the faith,
Could
not stand the apparent reality:
that
God could not be found in the pit.
I
buried my face in my little hands,
Went
on my knees…
But only
the silence spoke back.
‘felt
the heat evermore
As
it consumed the corruption in my heart,
Especially
those sly vices:
My
pride, my greed, my pride and my greed!
Never
had I so lucidly, seen my own impurity.
The
slyness of my pretty Christian heart.
Saw
below it,
The
vileness of my soul.
Brought
to an awakening:
I am a sinner
Brought
to a lonely place,
So I
may realise my need for grace…
To
believe in the necessity for Christ.
Feeling
him search me,
Pushing
me into the fire,
The
only way is to brave the flame,
To
loose my former self,
And
be renewed by his love.
Here
against insurmountable odds,
He
has put me.
My
feet will certainly fail,
No comments:
Post a Comment