i wrote this in high school . . . i still like it . . . enjoy 🙂
silence reigns, the heart is still
but peace, far from everlasting, is ephemeral
for eyes that see and hearts that hear
for a soul so longing to render aid . . .
watching . . .
slowly withdrawing to an inner place
far from the prying eyes and soundless talk
inner contemplation seeks a guide
to the suffering on the outside . . .
yes, it is there
no matter how much materialistic people deny it
no matter if stone-covered hearts refuse to see it
it is there
in a neighbor–a listless smile
a relative–a gloomy face
a friend–the quietness that comes from the depths of a
soul yearning for a love and peace that is always
just one step away
one horizon further
one prayer ahead
but that never reaches them and drives them to an even
than at first
yet i pretend that all is well
as my soul cries out for justice
trapped by walls that have no boundaries
save those set in my mind
while the sickness that spreads over our world
corrupts and eats at the vitality of others
like a cancer
yes, there must be suffering . . .
through it the world is being cleansed . . .
yet, “why do the weary have to walk so far?”
better yet, why doesn’t the mass of humanity respond?
in the face of such suffering they turn their thoughts inward
and forget their family
because of selfishness, tinged with fear–
of being themselves
of baring their hearts
of being hurt–
they turn a blind eye and a deaf ear
to the struggles of their friends
a mask of contentment is worn for all to see
people say “things are great–no problems here”
yet inside, they are as dark as their companions
who willingly show a distraught face . . .
who is the stronger?
and where is the aid that should be freely rendered
as we bear each others’ burdens?
why is it so hard to love?
i look to Christ . . .
i know my answer lies within, as
Paraclete gives boundless wisdom
as Healer heals, and Lover loves
and Peacefulness yields his life for all
yet why must we remain so ignorant?
the suffering of one redeems us all, yet recognition . . .
love is twisted
hope, lessened until it is no longer . . .
he loves so much
dying as he did of a broken heart
a heart filled with all the pain that was
that will be
he cries out in the form of every single person who is hurting
he stares at us every day, desperately seeking
our aid . . .
yet we beg off–
too much work, not enough time
“i come before you do–fix it yourself”
the excuses are endless, the pain evergrowing
by refusing to help a soul two are worse off
i cry out to Justice, yet Justice, it seems, hears not
but i forget . . .
without Good Friday there is no Easter Sunday
without a crown of thorns there is no crown of glory
without dying there is no life
dear God forgive me for doubting . . .
“against You only have i sinned”
for it is during our weakest moments
it is during our trials and tribulations
it is while our heart is in pieces
shattered by the pain that assails us
that we draw near to You
that You enfold us in Your arms of love
that You carry us
that You let us feel the love You have for us
it is then that we are most fit to love and be loved . . .