Xapa to the World

Tag: poetry

  • Day 5 – Love

    I think the way people love changes over time.  God’s love stays the same.  God loves me the same as He did when He put my body together.  He loves me the same as when I took my first breath.  The same as when I first sang, “Jesus Loves Me.” The same as when I asked Him into my heart.  The same as when I was obsessed with boy bands.  The same as when my heart was broken and  I was crying for a Father.  The same as when I heard Him call to me from Russia.  The same as when I set foot in China.  The same as when my heart was broken and crying for a lover.  The same as when I shut my ears to Him.  The same as when I opened them again.

    My love for Him has changed though.  It’s been childish, inconstant, genuine, self-serving, impatient, joyous, grieving, etc.  But is that then love?  The difference could be that God loves outside of my circumstances and I can’t help but love within them.  But the goal is to do the same.  Can I do that?  I’ve found that with certain things I am able to, but not in everything.  But God’s ability to love me constantly and continually outside of my circumstances is not a sign of His apathy to those circumstances, but a mark of how great His love truly is.

    I could sing of Your love forever, I could sing of Your love forever…

    This isn’t a commentary of my ability or desire to sing to God for all time, but a showing of the greatness of His love.  It would take more than eternity to sing all of it, and I would still need more time. 

    Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens.  Your faithfulness stretches to the sky.  Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains, yeah.  Your justice flows like the ocean’s tide.

  • Poem: The Moon-Cloud

    September 24, 2010

    The moon,

    Like a rice wafer in the sky,

    So light it seems almost like a cloud

    To be blown away by a sigh.

    Round, defined, translucent,

    Like a dream just after waking –

    Fading into the pale blue sky of morning –

    Soon to be forgotten

    With the dawning of the day.

    Sarah ><>

  • Poem: The Scalding

    June 22nd, 2010

    The drip-drip of water into the pot.
    Setting it on the stove,
    I turn the dial slowly to “Hot” and watch
    And wait.
    The result is already known:
    Heat + water = boiling and steam.
    As the bubbles form at the bottom,
    I stick my hand over the pot to feel
    The heat rising.  And rising.
    And rising.
    Not ready yet though.
    Finally, cascading to the surface – it’s time.
    I plunge my hand in,
    Feeling the water scald my skin,
    My muscles and nerves screaming out.
    But I cannot pull back.
    The pot must be emptied.
    Inside, I’m shouting, “No, no, NO!”
    But I raise the pot over my head
    And pour the rest out.
    As the boiling water joins my tears,
    My cheeks red from shame, pain, and fears,
    I set the pot in the sink.
    The drip-drip of water into the pot.
    I’ll be healed when it’s full, to do it again.

    Sarah ><>