Poetry

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Sitting down to write a psalm
with an image in my mind,
where mercy floats on beauty
with shadows you can't find.

Painting a picture made in heaven
at least one defined by me,
with many "singing hallelujahs"
hiding the pain that I can see.

Worship fashioned by expectations
seen in pretty rhymes - not heartaches,
hypocrisy polished by my pride
a foolish stench - that one partakes.

Just religious and pretentious
a shallow cursing of the heart,
on a journey from real healing
with the posture with which I start...

Come to God - broken and contrite
even if the waters are not calm,
authentic with my writings
for God seeks the deeper psalm.

Exploring doubts and failures
with the true lover of my soul,
I may be raw and bleeding
but He is the One who makes me whole.

Praise - so much deeper than a phrase
flowing from the truth of who I am,
a love letter to the Saviour
not just a junk folder filled with spam.

God is sitting down in messy
as He is nailed to the tree,
intimacy is what He's seeking
not the absence of debris.

As I stain the paper with my ink
and this reflection comes to an end,
may I leave nothing off the table,
pour my heart out - to the greatest friend.

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