Before I joined the human race,
before pain and failure were embraced,
with a heart too flimsy to feel for you
and an image too pure to let you pollute,
as the riddled chaos of this life arrived,
I swept it under rugs of pride—
under doors and in your eyes—
wherever I could find disguise,
just to subsist in blameless bliss,
outside this story’s erratic twists.
Please don’t bleed on my white dress.
Don’t ask me to carry all your mess.
You can take my neat phrases
and try to cover your broken places.
But I can’t afford to suffer with you,
unless you pay me what is due,
because my heart is full of me
wanting you to meet my need.
But as I begin to participate,
I face my pain to taste His Grace,
giving freedom for the task
of holding your hurt and loving your mess
without fear of running dry,
even if our plans should run awry.
Because there’s enough to give away,
in grief or joy or come what may,
since Love came to dwell in this tainted place—
here, among the human race.
3 comments:
Is this your poetry or is it from a book?
Quite beautiful.
it's mine. thanks.
who are you? :)
Just a random internet person. I stumbled onto your place here while googling for religious-oriented blogs.
I like yours in particular because it has a nice, open feel to it. Your posts actually feel like you're interested in discussion and learning, not just telling people what to think. I dig it.
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