poems

I found these poems ... and thought i'd post a few for the reading.

They speak of a journey, from a high school girl bright-eyed about life to a woman in her 20s who knows a deeper joy because of suffering. Some of them were written in the "in-between" -- before the morning dawned, at the darkest hour of night. And yet I believe that especially here there was good happening within me. Not because I am good, but because I belong to One who promises to turn even bad into good for me. For a greater glory. His ... and mine.

I hope you enjoy these few. More to come, if the populace demands it. :)

"Morning Mist" (senior year of high school -- 1997)
Morning mist
like a blanket of gossamer
Mysterious
Making all in its touch vague.
The world is different:
What was a beaten trail
Now is an unfamiliar path.
It is peace and calm
And comfort:
God's Hand still rests on the earth.
O beautiful mist, full of unknowns--
What lies behind the bend?
It's perfect trust in a God
Who sees through the morning mist.
He will guide and direct through all of life's opaque.

"A Winter's Glory" (1.16.99 -- sophomore year at Wheaton College)
Oh, the brilliance -- oh, how glorious!
Is the flaming winter sky.
Bare limbs silhouetted
Against the bright glory
Of a winter's sky.

The sun has set--
But has not died.
The clouds-'though plain themselves-
Reflect the sunset's glory.
They tell the story,
For minutes after the sun's death
Beyond horizon's edge.

The snow reflecting the stillness;
Black lines against the brilliance;
Purple, pink streaks in the blue.
The sun gone.
But the glory grows greater each moment.

Ah-most glorious Creator!
You are too marvelous!
Let me not forget this jewel of glory
Found beyond the bitter gloom
I had thought would hold the winter.
May many more delightful sunsets
Remind me of whose glory I seek.

"wounded" (2002)
I surrender it to You--
I try to take it back:
I fall under the weight of a burden
not meant for me to bear alone.
What will heal this bitterly festering wound?
Not my gossip nor my envy;
No amount of journaling or words.
It's too deep.
You've noticed and You know.
A rugged, blood-stained piece of wood
Pierces deep
Into my heart,
Into His hands.
Justice?
Finished.
Guilt?
Removed.
Love?
Immeasurably unending.

"Spring 2005"
Spring, you invite me
Into your freshness with each new green
turquoise blue sky like the inside of
a dyed Easter egg.
New beckons me into the sunset of twilight
Greets me in the first rays streaming
into my window.

Could my heart live here--in your spring?
Eternal newness, all scars and wounds erased
Disappearing like the cold winds of winter
Bitterness melting away with the snow--
Or is its beauty too abrasive
for my calloused cradle of dreams?

I can't live here. Or can I?
It means I must live again.
Laugh again.
Breathe again--break out of academia's cocoon.
Throw my head back; soak it up;
be revived.