The warmth of outside and in
Not so much to consider the philosophy of such things
But to be invited, remembered —
I,
My parents aren’t doing so well,
I’m not sure if they’ll figure it out.
I’m afraid they won’t make it through,
That they’re missing something,
Like there’s something they’ve forgotten.
So the heart has said,
I’m hurting, inside and out
I can’t figure out why,
It just kind of dulls
But I think, I feel like
There’s something missing
There’s something I can’t remember.
Sorrow and joy somehow both entered the room
Something evil’s freezing pain can’t cauterize
Warmth of fellowship inwardly abides
That room became a sanctuary
I rose before sunrise —
In-between when men are awake and dreaming,
Before the scythe reaps leaving chaff in its wake
I awake and see the ocean above
Cloudy trenches that define burning waterways
The clouds whisper back
Their hushing breeze brings life in through the window sill.
How is it that you can trust God’s timing when it all moves by so swiftly? That from one moment, He takes it away, and you trust His goodness to continue time’s passing; that each moment was good, and therefore from Him, and so the next will be also.
Each rib is bruised from the ache,
Cut through by the dull knife of regret
Leave the ache —
For it is perhaps better to ache than to sin.