Why are my hands blistered?
What lies have I whispered?
A force stronger than a twister.
But I am no resistor.
Why are my eyes bleeding?
What sins have I been eating?
Selfishness replaces self-control.
Many faces, yet I’m invisible and alone.
Why does my tongue not move?
Why am I quick to argue, not prove?
Why do my fingers wear shoes?
Why is my heart a giant bruise?
When did my face become contorted?
At what point was the lie distorted?
Trigger happy. Triggered happily.
My private show for my private family.
. . .
“Your privacy breeds isolation.
The tangled cloud of desolation.
You are your creation:
a ghostly, sick miscreation.
Invisible and alone.
Miserable on your own.
Happy in your home,
without any joy or hope.
Why won’t you let it go?
Give the Spirit control?
Why can’t you see His scars
that heal our sinful hearts?
Put it down to see the green.
Put it down to drink deep.
Let the Good Shepherd lead.
Kill the god with mirrors, be free.”
. . .
When no one’s around to see,
when no one cares,
you find out what you believe.
The only sound: prayers.
In silence, God rebuked me.
He did it in love.
By His mercy, God won’t refuse me.
His grace is enough.
Without the god with mirrors,
I must uproot the rest.
A wilderness of ghosts and fears
to put me to the test.
Your Spirit groans for me.
So I will wield the Sword.
Jesus lives to plead for me.
Strengthen me, my Lord.
Leave a Reply