A glimpse into my faith, my dream of writing, and reaching people for Christ through my words.
Out of place, out of reach,
Tangled in the mane
Of uncertainty.
Torn away from what
Home, the future, was
Supposed to be.
Waiting, for someone,
Something, anything,
To make sense.
But rumors swirl in,
Then out, before they could
Ever be true.
Wondering if it’ll ever
Be seen, or wanted,
For what the eye
Will never see.
There she stood, alone,
Battered and broken beneath
Their glares.
They knew her crime,
The wrong she had done,
And stood willing to throw
Rocks and stones, sharp
Edges in their hands.
Ready to punish, ready to end.
The Teacher came, to see,
To answer their questions,
To make them pause,
To think about their own lives.
And challenge the guiltless,
The perfect, to be the first
To condemn.
The rocks and stones slid
Like snow from their fingers.
As they all went away.
Realizing they had no place
To judge, to blame, to punish.
They were all just as shamed.
Still, she stood, cringing,
Waiting, for her fate from
The One Who was blameless.
He was the One Who
Could condemn. Who could
Reach down for rocks to throw.
But the only thing he picked up,
Were the pieces of her heart
To put back together.
To forgive.
I don’t normally like to explain my poetry. I like to let the imagery speak for itself and let each reader come to their own conclusions. Sure, I always have my own meanings, but I like to let the reader make decisions. But this one is based off of John 8:3-11. I read this passage in my devotional a few days ago and it has stuck with me. The perfect Savior, the One who could have picked up the rocks, did not condemn the woman. He let her go with love and forgiveness. To me, that’s such a strong image, and I wanted to write about it.
It’s out of focus,
Felt and seen, but fuzzy
Around the edges.
Blurriness.
The colors are there and
Some shapes are vivid.
But the whole picture lacks
Exactness.
The wrong angle, the wrong
Set up, here and there,
Brought this image of
Uncertainty.
Light was given to the
Wrong place, darkness remained
Over what needed to be seen.
Invisibility.
A mistake, an image worth
Nothing. Just something to throw
Away, something to be
Forgotten.
A lesson missed, advice not
Taken. Pray, wait, and see.
Hope that it’s not just
Forsaken.
Rainbows fade,
Sunflowers wilt.
Their beauty
Only lasts
For a certain time.
The sun will rise,
Just to set.
The day ending
Whether you’re ready
Or not.
The young stallion,
Grows old and Arthritic,
In what seems like
One rotation around
The sun.
The heart breaks,
In an instant,
Without warning,
When the unexpected
Takes it’s firm hold.
Confidence,
Shakes and fails.
Causing doubts, disbelief,
That anything done or said
Will ever be correct.
Rainbows fade,
Sunflowers wilt.
Maybe to teach us
To enjoy what we have
While we have it.
Eyes
Are said to be a window,
To what lies within,
To the secrets that try
To stay hidden.
Colors
Shine and reflect with what
they’re holding, with what
They’re feeling. Seen
by those who care to look.
Shapes
Work inside, allowing them to
See outside, bringing the world
To their heart. Letting them decide
Who, or what, to believe.
Waiting
To see, to find another,
A complimentary color, shape,
Who looks into the window,
But finds a mirror instead.
What makes a song
a song—
Something worth singing,
repeating—
Worth sharing with others?
Sincerity.
He sings from within,
his eyes full of light,
When he sees,
When he hears,
His person, his place.
His melody holds strong,
His heart full of joy,
When he runs,
When he jumps,
His life, his love.
He writes the harmony,
His mind adjusting,
To his new role,
To his new lot,
His home, his forever.
What makes a song
a song—
Something worth singing,
Repeating—
Sincerity.
A story worth sharing.
Writer’s block
Is simply
A fear
That the words
That come out
That get put
Down
On paper
Won’t do justice
To the images
Floating
Around
In your head.
That what you
Write
Will be lost,
Will not mean
Anything
To anyone
But yourself
If you’re
Lucky.
But do your
Best
To push the fear
Away.
Let the words
Out.
Taking the chance
Is better than staying
Silent.
Humble wood,
from the bark of a simple tree.
Seemingly innocent, but this
is where You died for me.
The bark nailed together,
You nailed to it.
You did nothing wrong,
but here, You paid my debt.
You were mocked and laughed at,
cursed at and jeered.
You could have saved Yourself, but You stayed.
So my name could be cleared.
To the tomb You went,
locked behind a stone.
But here, You wouldn’t stay.
Your place is on the throne.
Three days later, You conquered
death and the grave.
All that suffering and torture,
so that me, You could save.
No greater love exists,
than what You showed me here.
You tore down every wall.
You took care of every fear.
Sin has no hold anymore,
death has no power.
All my thanks goes to You,
my Lord, my Strong Tower.
If I had
Tried it first, earlier
in life,
I would have had more
Time,
To be better.
If I had
Never quit, or given up
the dream,
I would have had the
Chance,
To be the one.
If I had
Never tried, at all
to compete,
I would have never felt
The heartbreak,
Of never being enough.
If I had
Chosen this, instead of that
aspiration,
I might have more
Answers.
Or I might be even more
Lost.
If I had,
Or if I hadn’t…
Would I still be
Who I am
Now?
It’s mostly royal blue,
With some fading along the edges,
From the Arizona sun, over time.
There’s a simple white letter,
That’s not so clean anymore,
From red clay dirt, with age.
Salty sweat trails peak and plateau,
Showing the highs and lows
Of a season, of a life.
What’s its purpose, why
Was it made? Only for protection?
Only to shield? To shade?
It protects more than skin,
But knowledge, wisdom, a
Love for the game and those who play.
It shields from the storm,
When the game, life, gets hard,
Absorbing the pelting drops with ease.
It handles the thunder, the anger,
Holding together as wind rips through,
Still there when the gusts are over.
It shades a smile, a grin,
A laugh bigger than life,
A person who loves his profession.
It’s mostly royal blue,
With a simple white letter,
It protects, it shields, it shades—
And it’s more than just a cap.
One Word at a Time 