awkward poetry

It has been a long day. A long day, spent fighting —

–fighting lies, chaos, entropy —

–fighting aloneliness —

–fighting to be holy.

At last it’s quitting time; finally free, I

Leave the heat of battle.

Emerge from the warmth of my 3rd floor dwelling

into the cool of dusk.

There is solace in a solitary walk.

Striding past plant matter and urban husbandry, I

tackle the confusion in my soul

with God.

Rabbits spurt from the bushes.

Oh God. How long.

Oh God. Have mercy.

Oh God. Remember us in your lovingkindness.

——

Burdened with the battles unwaged, and the fish unfed,

I turn my thoughts and feet homeward.

In a final spurt of energy, I

bound up the stairs, back

into the heat of my apartment.

These fights cannot wait for another day.

—-

Today was, in many respects, an ordinary Monday. It was full of thoughts, hard work, hunger, and fighting for holiness. Lots of fighting, actually. Fighting anxiety, fighting pride, fighting gluttony. Fighting for justice, begging for mercy.

And in the midst of it all, all the pain and brokenness and hurt and anxiety and trouble and heartache, God remembers us.

God gives us little gifts every moment. God gives us big gifts every moment. God never stops giving to us.

I had corn to shuck tonight. Corn. Corn, with its beautiful green packaging sleeves and sticky silk. Healthy hands to rip it apart. He gave me nourishment. He gave me faith.

And when you think it doesn’t matter if you pray — that’s when it matters. If you think you don’t need to pray because fifty other people are on the prayer team for this issue, don’t listen to those thoughts. Pray.

And if you think your prayers don’t matter because it is only you feeling this hurt, only you burdened for this person, this desire, this sin, don’t listen. Pray.

If you are God’s child, He remembers you. He knows you. Our prayers are precious in His sight.

God is near to the brokenhearted, and saves those crushed in spirit.

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