Poetry

---

I have a 'see' shell that fits in my ear
Through which the Lord's ocean waves I can hear.
For my inner cochlea has been reborn.
It now echoes notes from a mighty ram's horn.

At the horn's tip lies a small mustard seed
With the potential to fill every need.
Carried on sound waves that move through the night,
it speaks to my eardrum a message of light.

No more than a tiny goose bump do I feel,
When first that little faith note becomes real.
But I know as I keep it, that miniscule sound
Will grow to a song that is heard all around.

I patiently wait for the drum to vibrate,
And when it does, subtle tones resonate,
Waves from that faint faith seed penetrate deep.
Down into my shattered nerves they do seep,

Touching my spinal cord, causing a ripple.
One dot of laser light brightens the cripple,
Removing my heart's blinder, that I might see,
Clearing the darkness and setting me free.

The roots and the branches of this mustard tree
Move throughout each vein and each artery,
Pumped by a heart that the Lord has made soft,
Sending notes upward toward heaven's loft.

As I continue this music to sing,
Up from above comes a heavenly ring.
Deep calls to deep at the sound of His voice,
Offering hope and a cause to rejoice.

Down to me from above cascades the fall.
Many waters give voice to the breakers that call.
Sound wave to sound wave they're reverberating.
Eager I plunge right in, not hesitating.

Diamonds of hope splash upon my dry head.
Streams of refreshing remove every dread.
The water drowns all of my doubts and my fears,
Removing the barnacles from off my ears.

Melodies of pure grace live in the flow.
How fluid the eloquence they do bestow,
Charging the waves with electricity
That makes every enemy bow at the knee.

Hear now the resting place of the Most High,
Whose soothing notes cause me to live and not die.
The wings of a peaceful white dove now protect me.
Birds that would steal faith's seed do not detect me.

The floods of corrupt men are all kept at bay.
The beat of a mighty Rock sends them away.
For they have no anchor attached to their rope.
Yet even to these comes a message of hope:

If you feel tossed like a wave of the sea,
Pitched in the storm of life's uncertainty,
If you need healing for ears that are battered
(Comforting tunes for a life that's been shattered),

Then hear now the horn that proceeds from the ram,
Which points to the slain one, the innocent Lamb
Who holds in his pierced hand that small little seed
Of faith that is perfect to meet every need,

And heal every ear that's been hurt by offense,
With symphonies that wash away every fence.
Ride on the sound wave that sparks new direction,
The musical "lull" that commands your attention,

Which draws near to you as you to it draw near,
Where things that were muddy in time become clear.
Let it cover your head, put to rest every fear,
And free up your ears so at last you can hear.

Here are a few scriptures to aid in understanding
this poem:

Genesis chapter 22; Exodus chapter 12; Psalm 29;
Psalm 42; Psalm 91; Matthew 13:31; Luke 17:6; and
John chapter 1

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE