Poetry

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I hear it and see the people worshiping
and say this must be a good thing
this must be the right way
but in my mouth it just doesn’t seem the same
how’s that?
I flew away a dove and became a pigeon
I fought for food and was looked upon with discuss
when I was once a beautiful vision
Only to fly to a filthy pond for water
I now reflect a bird stripped of it’s pure colour
how’s that?
I speak these words of darkness only to expose them to Light
How else can these wings with Your grace be given back it’s flight
It’s real
- this is -
I dirtied myself I stained my clothes I played in mud
I’ve arrived where I was so afraid to be-
with nothing to say ;
“what next?!” I cry
I exposed or did I -
my crime
dipping back in sin after sweet Salvation
I was washed in pure blood
and to my logical mind
couldn’t understand how I came out white-
whiter than fresh fallen snow
this going beyond the colour of my physical skin
but of my spirit and soul
as deep as I thought my thinking was
it wasn’t at all
here I am trying to comprehend something spiritual with fleshly thoughts
wanting to have the mind of Christ but leaving Him behind
this - is - my - crime
so here I am with nothing left to say
or do
but go back to the well where I started from-
where my reflection is You
and even when it rains upon this well
and I can’t see Your vision well
the rippling water will sometime be still
and my reflection of You clear
this time I must bare and not fear
I - can - be - like - Christ
it’s possible
as blood staining white
but only with Christ
the still water mirror in my over flowing well
has never lied
so when I am sent
I most go
and not forget
whom I reflect

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