Author: ericazaborac

One of Me

You paint seas of purple skies,
designing every sunrise, sunset.
You place every sparkle in the starlit night,
yet, You made one of me.

You take each snow flake and crystal,
Structuring each one just so.
No two are alike, each are crafted,
Unique, yet, You made one of me.

You imagined the horse,
giving it strength, power, and beauty,
Fragility and grace in one being,
yet, You made one of me.

You filled the depths of the ocean,
With colors and creatures beyond
What can be seen, or believed,
yet, You made one of me.

You decorated the forests and plains,
With birds and their songs,
With beasts and their roars,
yet, You made one of me.

It’s so humbling, looking at creation,
looking at Your creativity at work,
to know the same God made me,
to know that You included me in Your plan.

You wrote my story, my purpose,
You crafted me, and shaped me.
And when I don’t feel good enough,
I look around, and remember,

You made one of me.

Home

They say home is where
Your heart is.
Maybe because it always
Goes with.

It stays in place,
Beating and pumping,
Keeping a rhythm,
Staying whole.

It’s doors and windows
Open, letting in other souls,
Places, and dreams
To hold.

But the wind blows,
And life changes,
Causing cracks and
Breaks to form.

But still, it goes on
Beating and pumping,
Though the new rhythm
Changed the song.

It has to move on, or
Move away, letting go,
Instead of holding on
To the pain.

Home is where the
Heart is, since it always
Stays. But home becomes
More than one place,

Found in the pieces
That are broken off,
That can’t come with-
Even though without them,

It’ll never be whole.

Believe

Your tears slide in silence,
Screaming for the words
Unsaid,
Streaming down a path
Unknown,
Struggling through what’s
Unseen.

You hide behind a mask,
Waiting for Someone to
See,
Hoping for Someone to
Search,
Longing for Someone to
Save—

To look through the
Unsaid, the unknown,
The unseen.
To love beyond what is
Seen, or what is found,
Or what is unworthy.

Please, believe me,
When I say,
There is a Love this sweet,
There is a Hope this pure,
There is a Salvation this free.

Nail pierced Hands,
A thorn cut Brow,
A Love that knows no bounds.

A Love that sees,
A Love that knows,
A Love that still loves,
Unconditionally.

You just need to,
Simply,
Believe.

Make New

Something fragile,
Something treasured,
Something filled with hopes,
Dreams and memories,

Gets the place high
On the shelf, where
It can be seen and admired.
Where it’s kept safe

From finger prints and
Greedy hands, who, maybe,
See it’s value, but not it’s
Beauty, or rarity.

But the guard gets let down.
Someone, or something, gets
Permission, to hold it, to
Feel it, to see-

How when the light hits it,
It shines and sparkles,
Glistens and gleams,
In all it’s meant to be.

But careless recklessness,
Brings it crashing to the floor,
Shattering glass into splinters,
And fear into sobs and tears.

On hands and knees, the
Pieces are gathered and clutched,
Piercing the skin over and over,
The hurt fresh with each poke.

On her own, she can’t fix it,
The more she tries, the tighter
she holds onto the pieces,
The more she bleeds.

She has to surrender,
Let each piece fall back
To the floor, and give it
To the One who made her.

To the One who can restore,
To the One who can heal,
To the One who can make new,

And can use her pain,
For His ultimate plan.

https://youtu.be/4_2aX_i4qpM

Meant to Be

Something out of place
May seem pretty in the
Right light, or from a
Certain angle.

But a feather on a fence
Will never fly, will never
Soar, or reach the heights
It was made to see.

So even when it hurts,
Even when questions are
Unanswered, even when confusion
Swirls- try to remember this:

God’s plan is so much better.
And He’s just relocating you,
Shaping you, focusing you,
For where you’re meant to be.

Even if you can’t see it,
Even if you can’t believe it,
From where You’re standing
Today.

Tree

The tree sees everything,
From sunrise to sunset,
From day to week,
From month to year.

She stands tall and strong,
Moving with the wind,
Withstanding the rain,
Never showing her fear.

She takes the heat,
And takes the freeze,
Staying consistent, constant,
Hiding every tear.

Her leaves fall and
Grow back, a repeated
Cycle, a guarantee-
She’ll always be here.

The tree sees everything,
From sunrise to sunset,
From day to week,
From month to year.

But who will ever
See her?

Relief

She collected her bag and water bottle from the bench and climbed up the steps onto the field. She paused, taking everything in one last time. The way the grass was the perfect shade of green. The snow-white chalk that drew the batters’ boxes and the pitching circle. The red clay dirt that had stained hundreds of pairs of her socks throughout the years. The bullpen.
Her eyes settled on the crates of balls, and she remembered the weight of the ball in her hand. The burn of the seam over her fingers as she spun each pitch with precision. The slide of her back foot as she dragged it behind her. The snap of the ball in the catcher’s mitt as the batter swung and missed.
She tore herself away and walked down the narrow one-way street that took her to the mall. Ducking her head, one tear slid down her cheek as she jogged towards the setting sun, working to avoid eye contact with anyone she met. The purple and navy shades of dusk settled in around her as she found her car. Her keys slipped through her fingers and clattered to the concrete. Bending over, she collected her keys, and herself, before opening her door and sitting down. She made eye contact with herself in the review mirror. Her blue eyes were clouded with unshed tears and sadness, and a small ache had settled in around her heart. The pain didn’t surprise her as she thought about the decision she had just made, everything she had just walked away from, or the life she had just left behind.
What shocked her, was the small sense of relief.

Clarity

Tears blur your vision,
Making it hard to see,
Emphasizing the confusion,
And the pain that caused them.

You blink and try to clear your eyes,
But more and more just flow,
Streaming down your cheeks,
Leaving a salty trail on your face.

The pain swallows you whole,
Seeping into each crack of your
Heart. Your breathing turns to gasps,
Until you can’t hear anything else.

So slow down, hit pause,
Pull over if you have to.
Let them fall until there’s
Nothing left, ‘til you’re dry.

Then blink.
And find your clarity.