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::aNgST::
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| Warm sweat intermingled with tears,
As pain of the body unites with pain of the soul-
I run onward, half stumbling, half punishing
Myself for the crimes that I've committed.
The incessant burning reminds me that
There is a price to pay for the contrite heart.
Lives broken, harsh words spoken
Cannot be undone by mere regrets alone.
Who here will know my cowardice?
Who will know my fury, my fear?
The shifting of blame, playing this game, the resulting shame-
Only God can share with me the consequential pain.
So I keep on running, to merely a goal?
No, a person. A man who has felt every ache.
What do I have to show for my anguish and grief
But a hardened body and a softened heart... | | |
| Crowded streets, crowded subways,
8 million people, minding their own;
Everybody's wounded, everybody's tired,
No alms given, no seeds of love sown.
The conforming force is stifling,
Stay in line, don't disturb the peace.
But I'm different, I'm unique, I count;
My situation- at the very least- matters to me.
So I take my blows from the boxer called life,
Trying my best to walk paths less trodden,
Though I am going against the grain of all others,
And all others don't care to notice when you've fallen.
Its in moments like these that I would like to meet
My maker, not in a morbid sense, you see;
To talk to the only one who can change
The circumstances of life, and from this life set me free.
But there is no such thing as alone here,
Where sacred conversations can be privately spoken.
The lady upstairs, the housemate nearby,
No solitude before God to reveal that you are broken.
No air to voice my opinions,
No beauty for eyes to see;
No sound to scream my pains away,
No place to be really me. | | |
| Ten thousand screams,
with only my two ears to hear
the echoes of hypocrisy,
of anger handled without care
Who will taste the bitter blood from a wound
that is only beginning to be acknowledged?
I threw out what was precious, and bought
what was worthless; the noxious, fleeting satisfaction
that comes from self-righteousness never earned.
Only three know of the tragedy caused by my utter foolishness:
And I am fortunately and unfortunately one of them.
God's gifts are without repentance;
yet my flesh begs to differ.
For I have asked, received, then rejected
The very treasure I prayed for.
If gifts are not withdrawn, so also hurtful words never fade
Nor do they allow love to attend to wounded souls.
So shadow covers my heart for another long winter.
Yet I endure, holding a candle up high for her to see,
Knowing that tearful eyes rarely venture back
To hurtful, icy lands previously tread.
I scream and scream again, I'm at ten thousand now, and I repent
Of my repentance for a gift received too soon. | | |
| Teach me your way, O LORD , and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.
- Psalm 86:11 | | |
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