Tag Archives: Prayer

Me ‘n Matthew

I’ve succumbed to this infirmity,
Like spiritual leprosy,
Slipping beneath the pallor,
Aching in my joints:
It only hurts where I bend.
And I’m numb again,
My nerve-endings fall mute
But I have called to You

And You are willing.

I hold my breath.
Still on my bed, like stone death
And my fears crush my feet,
Clinging like gasoline and smoke
Paralyzed under the weight
Tormented by what I can’t escape
And I can’t get up, get away,
I can’t crawl to You,

But You will come; You will speak.

Tossed in feverish apparitions,
Bound by my inhibitions
Fueled with burning skin
And thought and imagination,
What is true, objective reality,
And what is birthed inside me
In the flame and misery
Of these spiritual infirmities?

But I believe You’re able:
Touch these hands
Set this fever to flee
So I can stand, so I can see

So I can serve Yours as You’ve saved me.


A History of Brokenness

She weeps offscreen,
Years of bruises thrive
Breaking open unseen
And she’s so strong to survive

Her brokenness.

I smile a hollow smile,
But the lantern is black
I embrace what I revile
And can never take back

My brokenness.

We survived the rocky womb
Dashed to pieces, but breathing
Hoping for a chance to bloom
Before we finished bleeding out

Our brokenness.

And we can’t stay in the lines
So we suffer the scold
For breaking the confines,
For not doing as we’re told,

For not staying broken.

We’re easy to clasp,
But impossible to keep
Because no one has surpassed
The temptation to reap

Where we’ve been broken.

Love doesn’t plunder the cleft
To feed base appetites,
And I’ve only learned this is theft
From the God who weeps at the sight

Of our brokenness.

A God who swears to fashion it for our good,
To make it better than intact
Who entered our misery and withstood
The same bitter attacks

To be broken for us.

Slowly making all things well,
But this process stings,
So we wait for the healing
Only He can bring:

Our Wounded Healer.


Let the Redeemed of The Lord Say So

How tremulous are the times,
These smooth faced crimes
We cultivate as pets
Feeding crumbled regrets
Until our hands are stained bare
Our ignorance declares
Our bloodthirsty guilt.
We are born to wilt,
Screaming wild from the womb
Against our descent to the tomb
Fascinated with all that lies beneath,
Sheep with carnivorous teeth
Tearing at the soft flesh
The crave and the thirst enmesh
And each entanglement, syrup sweet
And each digestion, a mortal defeat.
On our mounds of filth, we stand
Making worship, inherently hand in hand,
An abstraction we practice alone
Bowing at our own thrones
Bowing, but never to sit
Playing the king, but unfit
To reign.

You reign
Holy and blameless
Ever shameless
Even against our mess,
This howling failure to confess
And repent, and consent to life.
Taking the enemy for wife
Restoring order to the disjointed
Renewing Your anointed

Who were the worst of the lot.


You Again

So stuck on me
And all I am
Is the static between stations,
White noise vibrations
The matrix between cells,
The void that fell
Between occupied spaces,
Lost and lacking graces,

But for Your face turned to see me.

I make nothing
I offer nothing, I am nothing
But what I’ve always been,
A tiny bundle of blood and sin,
Crying out in the field I’m thrown,
No suckling, no home
Until You cradled me near
You – all I love, and crave, and fear

And betray, and hold dear.

I’m tossed under the night sky
And every burning star
Is a light left on for me,
To guide me home, to see
You still care
Not that I’m impaired,
But that I’m still Yours
You – setting my course

And sustaining the force of my momentum.


Striking Out Colorless

I yield
This flesh that rips like paper,
And weeps at every fold,
Incapable of withstanding
The fire or the cold.

I relent
My stone fist,
Fossilizing life and days,
Poverty and wealth
And my every wicked display.

I kneel
On broken legs,
I offer the wrist to chain,
To live, to live a slave,
To die if You ordain.

I raise the white flag
Over my fortress You’ve laid siege;
I surrender all,
All my Lord, to thee.


Somnambles

Pain rouses me from slumber,
Keeps me awake to talk,
And I lumber into conversation,
Too tired to politely walk,

And if You want me to hear
I am glad for Your attention,
Only open my ears
If You mean my comprehension

But You alone are wise;
If need be
Open just my eyes.


Of Course

Waves of faithful
washing over my faithless,
When I despair
as one who is graceless,
You respond
and fear falls baseless.

I know again, it will be okay,
for even if I cease,
Your love continues on
to uphold in perfect peace
where my love stumbles lame,
a slave to consternation and caprice.


Good Morning

Today is new.

I’m an old wretch,

Drenched in the sins

ever seeping through,

But this is the homestretch,

And I belong to You,

 

And every day Your mercy is new.

 

 

Today is hope.

I’ve been clinging

To the very bottom

of my frayed rope,

But You keep singing,

Expanding my scope,

 

And ringing out hope.

 

Today is Yours,

And I’ve tried to take it,

but no more.

I relinquish it, break it,

Lift it off the floor

 

Teach me to let it be Yours.