The unbearable weight of sadness
From the depths of humanity torn,
Where a wound to any is a wound to all,
And the blood cries out from the ground
Pooling in accumulated tragedy,
An affront to all intent of design,
And the blood and loss and anguish must be heard,
And it will be heard.
She sent me her soul,
Her song, and I sing it
In the dark I linger
Ancient sparks flowing
Lost years crooning
The vibrato rythyms we all
Tapped out on our prison walls
Our stretched voices in tune
Sing.
Sing these lost years,
Like velvet green leaves
Ripped from spring trees
The storms appear,
And we dissipate, but
We do not disappear.
We suffer loss, yes, and torn limbs,
But we live again, and
Our song is here.
Pushed beyond myself
Coldest nights relenting
To a brutal sun
Always repenting
For my solutions,
My desperate delusions
I’ve cut and run
I’ve been cut through,
Cut free,
Pushing back my view
Until all I could see
Were broken remains of peace
My goal and end:
I was shooting for the mirage
To deny my beginnings
My grotesque collage
Proof of sinning,
And violent endings.
Hard places
Teach the harder lessons,
And I’m ancient ears
Learning new confessions
Misplaced fears,
And hopes, and years
What doesn’t kill us
Makes us who we are,
And our broken bones
Have travelled far
And are still heading home,
Because we never walk alone
What doesn’t kill us
Is our greatest gift,
And I’ve been ashamed
To expose this rift
But I am not the same
For naming the name
Fractured,
But never forgotten,
And this existence
Has not been ill-gotten,
Our weathered resistance
Grows from our assistance,
The relentless persistence
Of the love of Jesus Christ.
viewingcamelot 