Esprit Plays Ink-Slinger

[Esprit]

I've always wanted to create a thread with some of my writings in it, but was never sure exactly what I would post. One thing I felt I should share were my poems, but I dithered back and forth because... well, these poems are rather heart-felt and revealing for me. You see, I've lost any touch I once had for writing poems that rhyme, but when I'm in a situation where I desperately need to get my feelings out on paper, I write a free-style poem.

So, I feel the following poem needs an explanation first. I grew up in vast city suburbs surrounded by numerous Christian friends and a huge church and homeschool community. I was settled, comfortable-- probably too comfortable. Then my family moved out of state, and I had all that security (except for my immediate family) ripped out from under my feet. I wrote this as an angst-filled new Christian reaching for sure sanctuary and-- tentatively-- finding it in Christ.


I saw my house dissembled before my eyes,
The sticks around my feet, its foundation cracked,
Never to be built on again.
I had never realized how frail my life had been-
A mere passing thing, soon a memory.
My old life, all scattered remains,
Those sticks.
I am left to wander, and find
That the world is cold so far from home.
Yet the old is outgrown, only sweet memories
Of by-gone times, where I cannot return.
A strong wind rises up.
Each handhold, desperately gripped,
Is ripped away, and I am left, defenseless,
To the climbing flood.
My feet struggle to find the firmer ground,
Some higher hill, the stair
That keeps my head above the waters.
Sometimes I slip,
And yet still I cling, amid the raging surge,
Waiting for the time that I may fly home-
The sturdy castle that always waited
To welcome me.

You can see my outlook was pretty bleak, except for that tiny bit of hope at the very end. But a couple of years later, I had the confidence to add something more:

A hand grips mine and steadies me.
He wraps his arm round my shoulder,
Pointing,
Whispering,
“Look, it’s there, just beyond
The horizon, waiting for you.
I will bring you there.”
His eyes have compassion,
And His arm is my strength.
He upholds me amid the swelling surge.
Where my knees quake,
He is a Rock that does not move.
He whispers in my ear,
“I destroyed your Stick House,
And made you wander,
Because
I was drawing you to Myself all along.”


For a year or two after my family moved I was a mess of angst and roiling emotions (and maybe even some very mild depression), but now I am able to look back and see that God worked some awesome deeds during that time. It wasn't until after we moved that I was able to really feel God persistently prodding me, "See this? See how you need Me?" Now I can think of that move and the years following, and say, Thank You, God!

Okay, I feel like I shared my testimony instead of just a poem-- but, well, that's really what the poem is!

[Ariel.of.Narnia]

Who says an emotional, revealing poem can't be your testimony as well? It's beautiful, Esprit; thank you for sharing!

[albero1]

That second part made me cry. Beautiful, Spree.

[elanorelle]

Beautiful - simply beautiful, Esprit. Thanks so much for sharing it with us.

[gypsevedius]

Wow that's really good and amazing.

[Esprit]

*comes in sunburned from camp* Aw, thanks guys!