Just to introduce, I'm something of an amateur poet. I've been told that I'm pretty good at it, and I consider it a gift that God has given me, and I'm thankful for it, but I know there's always room to grow. Here's one of my old poems that I ran across in one of my journals today, that really relates to what I've been struggling with... (read my post in the prayer room for info)
Can't sing now of freedom,
only the dream
of waking,
coming to,
a living life...
At times I see wings
out the window,
the sparrows,
they joy the song,
but if I'm worth more,
why can't I fly too?
I've known the cost of breathing,
the heart beats,
and just as surely breaks,
the blood runs swift
and the days,
our scarlet stories written,
understood entire by only one.
Pain is a simple knife,
but love's a mystery,
tender the physician is
who dares his craft,
and will the beloved bear
the lover's wings?
A sick man am I,
and often fall,
the night knows me well,
but the stars shine pure reminders
and there is hope yet,
caught and found,
eyes opening,
to a wonder...
