Author: ericazaborac

What Can Change in a Week?

Day one-ceremony
-their hero, in their midst,
chose not to ride a stallion,
but a donkey, a foal-
a sign of peace.
What can change in a week?

Day one-continued
-the King, riding a colt,
a fulfillment of prophecy.
clothes and palms spread before Him,
as they anticipated victory.
crying Hosanna, they worshipped,
but the pharisees grumbled, angrily.
What can change in a week?

Day two-comparison
-a fig tree, and a temple,
producing no fruit at all.
He cursed it, telling his disciples-
faith is more than outward acts.
What can change in a week?

Day two-cleansing
-His house of prayer
turned into a den of thieves.
He overturned the tables,
clearing everyone out.
What can change in a week?

Day three-confrontation
-His authority questioned,
as He healed, as He taught.
the leaders tried to seize Him,
but feared what the people thought.
What can change in a week?

Day three-conspiracy
-betrayed by one of the twelve.
He was delivered into the hands of hatred.
for thirty pieces of silver, Judas
set the price of the Savior.
What can change in a week?

Day five-celebration
-of the Passover feast.
the blood of the blemish free lamb
over each family’s door,
saved them from death, from grief.
What can change in a week?

Day five-communion
-He shared the bread and the wine.
His body, His blood, became a sacrifice,
forever taking the place of the lamb,
after betrayal, by a friend’s kiss.
What can change in a week?

Day six-condemnation
-He stood silently, enduring the shame
of false accusations, physical beatings,
listening as the praise changed to outrage,
as Hosanna turned to crucify.
What can change in a week?

Day six-completion
He breathed His last, tearing the veil,
and asked for forgiveness, for them-
the very ones who had Him killed.
He submitted His Spirit to the plan.
What can change in a week?

Day seven-darkness.
The Savior was dead,
lying in the stone-cold tomb.
What can change in a week?

Day eight-light
The women found the tomb empty.
the stone was rolled away, the linens folded.
The Savior was no longer dead- He lived!
Defeating Satan, hell, the power of sin.
What can change in a week?

The Son of God, the Son of Man,
lived the life we never could-
and died the death that was ours,
so we could have freedom, and experience grace-
something we could never earn.

In a week, He was worshipped,
then tried, tortured, and killed,
to break the curse, to be our sacrifice,
all for our sins, our sakes, our futures,
All because of love. 

I ask again, one last time,
What can change in a week?


Hummingbird

Oh sweet little
Hummingbird,
I can feel your heart
Beating so fast.

Please, slow down.
Take a breath.
Remember it’s okay
Not to rush.

It’s okay to just
Be still.
That’s the safer option,
The easier one.

Get your drink,
Let your wings settle,
Even if just for one
Moment, one beat.

Oh sweet little
Hummingbird,
I can feel your heart
Beating so fast.

You’ll be okay.
Just find a place,
A way,
To rest.

Remind Me

When I’m lost and my feet can’t feel the ground beneath me,
When I’m broken and can’t remember what it means to be whole,
When I’m tired and peace can’t seem to reach me,
Remind me what it means to be Yours.

When rocks are thrown and leave bruises,
When heartache and suffering won’t release their hold,
When grief and pain overwhelm me,
Remind me what it means to be Yours.

When storm clouds come and cover the sunshine,
When heaven and life with You seem forever away,
When I can’t understand the hurt of this world,
Remind me what it means to be Yours.

To be Yours is to always know I’m loved. 
To be Yours is to know there is a Plan.
To be Yours is to find comfort in the hard times,
And to remember You hold me in Your hands.

You see Your plan and know what will happen,
And when I constantly question and wonder why,
You’re perfectly patient, You don’t get mad.
You see a precious life that just doesn’t understand.

You’re working to build Your chosen instrument,
Selecting the materials to get the fit just right,
To be Yours is to want your will above all else,
To trust you completely with every aspect of life.

Mirror

Reflections-
Are lies,
Are real,
In the same breath,
At the same time.

Glass mirrors-
Show us
What is
Seen by the world,
When we can’t look.

Clear water
Holds still,
Stays cool,
Until the wind,
Until the rain.

Reflections
Show us-
Us.
But what we see
Is only half the story.

The other half is
In pieces.

What others see.
What’s inside.
And finally-

-the Truth.

Whisper

I tuck my hair behind my ear.
Bite down on the edge of my pen,
Try to think,
To breathe.

The cover of the journal curls
Under my fingers, my grasp.
Questions swirl,
Unknowns

Pound my head, creating doubt.

Sometimes words come as easy as breath.
And I hold on to them, waiting for the picture
To come through,
To match.

And others, the image comes to mind,
To life, first. And with a little tweak
Here and there,
It sits.

Waiting for my thoughts to catch up.

They come from every direction,
When least expected, when looking
For answers,
For time.

But the thoughts turn to more questions,
And the questions often turn to tears,
Of sadness,
Of fear.

I just need an answer to one thing.
But I’ll just sit here in the silence,
Still waiting,
Listening,

Even if it’s just for a single whisper.

Puzzle

Each day is a piece
Of the puzzle,
But also a puzzle
All on its own.

Some pieces are
Temporary,
Only there for a time,
Or a simple season.

Some pieces stick
Around, lasting
Longer than you
Ever thought they could.

Some pieces come
With proper closure.
Everything understood,
Nothing left unsaid.

Some pieces fade,
From the sun and rain,
From the weight of
Questions unasked.

Some pieces break,
Suddenly snapping off,
So it no longer fits.
Forever changing the picture.

Each day is a piece
Of the puzzle.
But also a puzzle
All on its own.

The full picture,
Impossible to see,
Until it’s all
Done.

Rose

Every rose has its time
A seed to bud, a bud to bloom
A bloom to fall.

She comes back, again and again.
Wiser than the previous
Stronger than the last.

Her thorns protect her, and
Her family. They help her hold
On with new found strength.

Her bud unfolds, one petal,
One piece at a time,
A new chapter with each day.

Red, unmistakably red.
Shining brighter, standing truer,
Showing love like no one else.

Her color never faded, never shied
Even through all of life’s storms,
Even when each petal fell

Back to the ground
from which they came.

Every rose has its time
I’m just so grateful,
You were a part of mine.

Let Go

I loosen my grip,
Lift up my hands,
Let everything slide
Away.

I move each finger,
Maintain my composure,
Make myself take a
Breath.

I stare at my reflection,
Sigh so I can think,
See the pain mixed with
Hope.

I blink back the tears,
Break away from the mirror,
Bring myself to face the
Truth.

My grip will never be,
Tight enough, to hold on,
To anything that isn’t
God’s plan.

Frozen

Green.
That’s how it started,
when life was new,
when spring arrived.

But spring became summer.
Heat and drought
stole the color.
And broke the stem.

Wind came and chilled
the air and the ground.
Scattering, shattering,
forcing it to go away.

To a new home, or place,
down on the ground.
Unprotected, a victim,
to the glass cold hold

Of the ice.

Even if the sun comes,
even if the ice melts,
even if the leaf thaws,
it’ll never go back

to the life it knew.

It’ll never go back,
onto the branch.
It’ll never grow back, 
onto the tree.

It’ll never again,
be green.