Poetry

This page is going to be chock full of poems I've written and found on my computer, random papers, restaurant napkins, and whatever else I managed to scrawl them on until I realized I like to write poems and might want to keep them.  By the way, if they seem a little dark it's because they usually are.  I write almost exclusively when I'm feeling the lowest.  So don't worry about me; I'm not always like these poems make it seem. 

Untitled #1

I felt far,

But as I drew,

And as I prayed,

I felt closer,

Almost broken at the sight of the mighty king.

How much more

Could I add to the heap,

The burden that He,

Had to carry?

If I lived,

Each day thinking,

“What one thing could I be ravenously

Striving for?

7-11-13

What you can't see here is the pain.
When all that you're focused on is the number that appears.
What you can't feel here is the gain.
The weight, the curves that manifest when all else disappears.
This picture's black and white,
But the feelings are all in color.
There's nothing harder than eating.
When the only outcome is the number.
People say it's as simple as loving me for me.
But how do I do that when feeling skinny seems like all I need?
Feelings for food, food for pounds, and pounds for feelings,
The cycle repeats.
All I can do is trust God with this feat.

Untitled #2

I don’t like it when I fall,

But I get to be picked up.

Like a child I squirm.

Do I want to be set back on my feet?

Because right now the ground feels safe

And though it’s a little cold,

At least I don’t have to see it in everyone’s eyes.

And at least I’m grounded.

Reluctantly I flatten my feet against the cold ground,

Slowly lifting my eyes,

Its chilling to see the way I see myself now.

But I have to let you view me.

You still love me?

Even after what I did?

Unhurriedly I step forward.

I guess I can keep going,

But not by myself,

And only with the comforting and powerful assurance that

If I stumble again,

You will catch me.

I’m not worthy.

But you are.

And that’s all that matters.

Sin

Not only could I see it;

I could feel it and taste it.

The putrid blackness of it

Made to look beautiful,

Enticing even.

I banished it away,

Only to come crawling back

To it myself.

Sometimes they ask me,

“What is it that always pulls you away?”

And it is this darkness that

Obscures even itself.

To recognize it,

Pierce its veil with

Light,

Is harder a task

Than I had hoped.

Only when we become entangled with

The beloved tree,

Allowing It’s roots to sustain us,

Does the serpent slither up the branches,

Desperate to sever the connection

Time and time again.

After 11 Years
It was a cold February day when
Life took her breath away.
I wished and wished that I could be
The friend they needed in me.
But it was her who pointed at the cross.
Love was felt, though life was lost.
We'll all remember that snowy day when
God took her home, but not away.