I wandered to a coffee shop during my lunch break today and thought I’d try my hand at poetry, which I rarely do. But something came of it, so I thought I would use it today instead of my stuffy prose.
This morning I spent some time in Psalm 18, and the theme of light has been reverberating through my brain since then.
I took my first gulp of air
in an atmosphere I’ve been living in since September.
I’ve been in a hole- dark damp and cold- when I fell in I hardly remember.
My heart screams to say, since it’s Valentines day, that surely there’s love here for me,
not found in a kiss or a laugh or a gift but fleshed in my lover’s surrender.
Oh how I forget, my wandering heart, as days become months and the air seems to thin,
the sunlight feels foreign and I start to doubt if I really believe in Him.
I think of the childish tune to my soul long before I moved to the south- in my heart, in a car that died years ago, as I pray that the darkness won’t win.
But you are the spring, you are the summer, you are the one who lights my lamp. Like a foreign land in the dead of winter, you win in my heart as the sun goes down.
And summer will come. Summer will come.
I unwrap red paper in a café alone as strangers sip coffee around me.
It feels so strange to be writing here, a part of this big new city.
I’ve heard others speak of a lonely heart, their jargon foreign to, me but now I know, now I remember, I feel like I finally see.
“This too shall pass” he says to my tear stained face. I don’t doubt it’s truth.
But when, God? When, God?
Can I just please see you?
For you are the spring, you are the summer, you are the one who lights my lamp. Like a foreign land in the dead of winter, you win in my heart as the sun goes down.
And summer will come.
Summer will come.