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Writing Nook ~~ quips and tips from and for writers
Featured writer -- Robin Idol
Following is a beautiful poem, recently written by Robin Idol. Robin is contemplating a compilation of original poetry. Go for it, Robin!
I am entangled in a mesh of vines, thorns pricking my skin
Gently wriggling, struggling in vain to free myself
Panic builds and mounts over my despair and anger as I wrench my body to and fro to rid myself of these accursed talons
My flesh shreds, small bubbles of blood stain the ivory of my shell
God above, I hate this place…and God above knows that I built this scene, all myself
I planted every seed
I watered every growth
I caressed every bloom
I lovingly built my castle, the beauty and snugness delighting me
But for what? All is in ruin, my palace became desecration, my garden poisoned and befouled
And I imprisoned myself in my own debris, my own solitude, letting the vines grow over my limbs and claim me as part of the demise
But now I fight…for what, I know not
Yet I hear a call, a whisper on the wind
A pleading wafting in the breeze
Alluring, inviting, promising
So I allow these piercings of my flesh with few whimpers
As I slowly free myself, I follow the voice
At first, haltingly and then with rising impatience and hunger
A hillside appears in my view, a well known cross upon its peak
There He is…that man, that whisperer
Where are the crowds? For I know this story.
Where are the other crosses? I know they should be.
But no…nothing exists but He and I on a lonesome hill under a shadowed sky
His face is contorted in agony as pains wrack His body
But I feel His real torment, in His heart, His soul, as His own condemn Him
But I am alone, I can free Him, there is no one to stop me
His gentle “No” stills me as I look for means of relieving His torture
I cannot meet His eyes, though I know His are searching for mine
I focus on my bodily pain, my torn flesh, my festering heart…anything other than feeling or seeing
His mind touches mine, His heart embraces my core, His soul weeps for my wayward and miserable spirit
Unable to bear more, my head lifts, my eyes focus at last on His
As we connect, a whirlwind of emotion catches me, flinging me in undulating revolutions until I collapse, breathless, at the feet of this cross, on hands and knees
Gasping at this newfound love, this transfiguring agony
Scarlet drops rain from my wounds…but no, there are no mutilations on my being
The blood flows from Him
All my gashes, my tears, my scars are borne by Him…I am healed in a resplendent metamorphosis
What magic is this? I am released from pain, I am pure and reformed as a proselyte…and yet I feel no victory, no gladness
For this Man, this innocent, has all of my blemishes
He carries the fullness of my burden, my offences, my damages
There is no fairness in this! Life as I have known it to be does not function in this manner.
But as I try to determine some way to take back my infirmities, He shakes His head
He has earned them, He tells me. Bought them and me, with a price I cannot fathom.
Unable to reach Him, I collapse against His cross and weep, aching to touch this wood that connects me to Him
That has bridged the chasm between my vileness and His perfection
I have nothing to offer this Man but my presence in His suffering, my tears for His gift of sacrifice
Let me sculpt a crevice in my heart for Your spirit to rest, I entreat of Him
Use me as You will, give me firmness and resolution and yes, even pain
Whatever You desire, whatever You deem significant for my paltry years upon this earth
But please never forsake me, never leave me, always allow me rest in Your arms at day’s close
Words are not necessary for His response as I feel His spirit merge with mine
Entwined and locked, no key to break them apart
The blood rains down on me no longer, there is no cross
Just a renewed garden, a newly forged home and His gentle hands pulling me to my feet
Oh Lord, what beauty is now mine with true eyes to see
What comfort and peace in Your celestial embrace
Blessed repose, sublime assurance
Robin Idol, August 9, 2006
A MAX MOMENT:
One of my favorite writers is Max Lucado. He can say more with less words than most people I know.
"When it comes to describing Heaven, we are all happy failures." When God Whispers Your Name
Other Quotes:
"I find enormous security in the consistency of God." (Beth Moore, A Heart Like His )
"Profound thinking doesn't thrive in the middle of rush hour traffic or a crowded mall. It takes slowing down, listening to your heart, and being open to learning something new about yourself and the world we live in. And maybe even having a good laugh about it all." (Martha Bolton, I Think, Therefore I Have a Headache! )
"God doesn't want you to settle for anything less than His very best. ... You must discover and develop your talents, abilities and gifts to their fullest potential; only then will you be able to crash through your barriers of limitation." (Wayne Cordeiro, Doing Church As A Team )
"We live to make each other successful. That's the deal." (W. Cordeiro, also from Doing Church As A Team )
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