release...

i love to write.. anything really... songs, poems, speeches, articles, nonfiction, even research papers.. writing is a release.. it let's whatever is going on inside of you... out. i can't explain it.. but if you're a writer too, you know what i mean... i was a writing minor so, not that long ago, i used to get to write all the time.. but this being my first semster out of school, ever... i haven't been writing as much... but i can change that..

i love poetry.. i like it because it doesn't have to be conformed to a certain pattern or formula.. it can be anything you want.. it doesn't even have to make sense.. which i like, because it isn't uncommon to think or feel things that don't make sense to everybody else.. and sometimes it makes more sense to tell a story with fragments and snapshots.. you don't have to spell everything out.. basically.. little is demanded of poetry.. no rules. no expectations.

so i decided to write a poem.. God's been doing some stuff in me lately.. preparing my heart for what's ahead... fixing broken things that i didn't know affected me so heavily... it's been hard.. but amazing... and i wanted to get it out... so here it is.. (ps i definitely stole the title from somewhere else... but like i said.. no rules)


Dreams and Sewing Machines

my eyes search pen marks on a journal page..
bad handwriting tells the truth of aged hurt
in the midst of fresh joy and healing..
compartmentalized abrasions remain
as beams of New Light shine
like spot lights through ceiling cracks..
beckoning for me to open the forgotton packages..
for nothing can be done with a burnt or broken heart..
and love suffers so much already..
no understudy prepared to take my place..
if i'm to heal.. i have to search out the attic..
to find that which i've lost..
no one worth keeping should be placed in a box..
shoved in hidden corners..
for i know all things can be recovered.
nothing is ever lost. He dusts off the lid..
my hands sift shakily through the contents..
deep breath.
we breathe together..
His breath is life
He's already healed the sickness.
He'll be faithful to cure the disease.
love never fails. honor thy father. love never fails.
and He's been waiting for this..
for years..
so i let go.. clenched fists abandon white knuckles.
i choose to sleep like a child beneath street lights..
sleep while You sing to my fears...
sleep while You mend. sleep while You sew.
sleep while You mend. sleep while You sew.