February 18, 2015
I decided to write a poem of things that have been on my heart lately. It is very probable that it won’t be the last ha ha.
I try to find the perfect words, or combination of them, in poems or stories, but like one seeking treasure blindfolded… I may get a little of what I wanted to express, but the core truth of my thoughts never seem to be revealed justly. I guess most people feel that way right? I write these words, but I wish that I had more confidence in them myself! I want to know, really know, my identity in Jesus! To be more and more confident in His mirror than my own.
I put another poem on here by Gloria Gather, and it is one of my favorites! It also expresses, much better than I, what I’ve been feeling and truly what I think! 
“Unsure Masterpiece”
To the soul who feels burdened
Under the weight of scrutiny, confusion, and comparison.
To the unsure mind, who struggles to hold on to their person,
Or to submit under the culture’s stern and unyielding judgment.
My friend, He has given you and I a philosopher’s mind;
A bird willing to dip, glide, struggle in their journey to the heavens–
in their gentle and terrible beauty you yet find more mysteries.
As deep calls to deep, He draws our questions to Himself in an embrace.
Though our lofty thoughts come not to His feet, He encourages them still higher.
For to understand His thoughts is a child trying to catch the stars.
But the exploration of His being, dear reader, is more than enough!
And He catches our grasping, curious little fingers
and holds them all the tighter in His delighted carpenter hands!
He has given us poet’s hearts!
To see objects with an artist’s eye,
To see not emptiness, but colors yet to be painted,
To see not an unmalleable rock, but a smooth intricate sculpture.
This talent used generously has the power
to resuscitate life in death!
When others see a drop, we see depths of oceans underneath;
When others can only see the dust, we point them to the stars.
You endeavor to find the perfect words to stir hearts–
Though never successful, in the striving there is still splendor and truth.
Beauty so captivating is both sought and found in poets–
those odd, transcendent people
who stare fixedly at waste and see only possibilities.
Amid shouts, they hear strains of music,
Amid fields of flowers, they find a sermon in stone.
He has given us a warrior’s spirit
Courage brave heart, once more into the struggle!
We see worthy battles in the lost, ignored, and abused.
We jump headlong and joyfully into adventure,
Forsaking the burden of security by the wayside.
We trudge through the mud to get to the captive,
And we may fracture our hands when we smash chains.
So fierce is our love, so fierce is our joy, so fierce is our battle,
Even when our upturned eyes cannot see the approach of the victorious dawn,
We will continue to fight in the darkness of the seemingly endless night.
The lion dwells in our chest–His roar is heard in our tender whispers,
His passion blazes from our smiling eyes.
The lonely revolutionaries that pick up the flag, and bear it with their crosses–
We are the dangerous ones.
Fear and lies, though they have constant reinforcements, fall in broken heaps behind us.
He has given us hearts of simple longing.
Our ribs ache for His heart in their midst!
Our eyes widen in the wonder that is captured in small moments,
Then close them in glee, bathing in the imagination so lavishly bestowed.
Our feet wander, looking for our one true home–our last home.
Our hearts quicken when we gaze in broken and dirty faces.
For Oh! Did I just catch a glimpse of my Savior in those eyes?
We feel free to lean our heads on His chest,
And ask through tears to hear the strong, romantic, and mysterious
thump, thump, thump of the first and truest heart.
Our lungs beg for His breath more and more!
But can a chest swelled with such sweet fragrance hold in its treasures?
No, it must release it! No, it must sing it out!
So my dear friend, and kindred spirit:
Don’t let your song die quietly on your lips,
Nor lose your courage to ask questions into a murky void–
Though the echoes be succumbed and muted in the darkness of the unknown.
Don’t smother your living expressions of joy and grief,
Only to mimic the mundane and mollified masks around you.
Don’t carry the burden of others misunderstandings
As a yoke upon your neck, as black mark upon your chest.
Hear once more the whisper and songs of His delight
Above the mocking and questioning crowd.
O you fearless hearts that allow for the compassion, pain, and mourning to seep into your bones;
You will be the ones that will readily welcome and understand the morning sun rising in hope!
Courage, Dear, Tender, Lionhearted Child of God,
Let Him gently turn your face to the mirror He is holding before you.
The more you gaze into His eyes, the more you are found, the more you are understood.
Lovely One, You are loved.
You are praised.
You are affirmed.
You are understood.
You are enjoyed.
Let not the unsteady hand of man
diminish the masterpiece He has already made of you–
And is making still!
“To All the Poets”
To all the poets I have known
Who saw the beauty in the
commonplace
Saw incarnation in a baby’s face
And in a drop of rain, the stars…
When there was mud and blood
and tears,
You sang a song at night to calm
our fears
You made a moment last a thousand
years–
Thank God for poets I have known.
You go on dreaming after
dreams all fade.
When friends desert, you are
the ones who stayed
To write the prayers when every
prayer’d been prayed;
You are the poets I have known.
To all the poets I have known:
You built a kingdom out of sea
and sand,
you conquered armies with a
marching band,
You carved a galaxy in stone–
You built an altar out of bread
and spent your soul to see
children fed.
You wove your story in every
story read–
You lovely poets I have known.
You walking wounded of my life
who bled compassion in the
heat of strife,
Who stood between my heart
and Satan’s knife
With just the armor of a song–
You are the heroes and the brave
who with slender pen our
passions save
And chisel epitaphs upon the grave
Of all the poets I have known. ~ Gloria Gaither
