(This November, I wrote a poem a day. I skipped a few days. But I ended up with 46 poems in total. Here's one of them, the most authentic and heartfelt of them all. I think you'll see why.)
Psalm 8
Pour yourself
Good Lord,
You poured yourself out
Then asked me to do the same
Pour yourself
Yes, Lord,
I said,
I will go where You send me
Now You are sending me
Spiraling within my Spirit
My desires overthrown by Your own
Pour yourself
Please, Lord,
Let me spill across the desert,
Make it as a floodplain
My completion is You
Who threw out my past
And replaced me with wholeness
Pour yourself
When everyone says to hold,
Keep your God close
But your money and worldly concerns closer
Pour yourself
Without questioning how
The well within me
Will stay bobbing with water at the brim
Pour yourself
Because I am not myself
Pour yourself
Or never quite be filled
Pour yourself
Lest the world wither without a servant to fend off plagues of dryness
Pour yourself
Hallelujah, Lord!
That I am so called
And inspired by You
I will pour myself as You showed me how
And just to be clear
I do not know who I'd be
Without You
Thus the only way for me to be is You, You who call me all in without restraint, You who scorch through me with holy light, You who strangle the parts of myself that worry and fear and keep my candle trapped beneath throes of muted darkness, to that You say, no more
You're putting an end to me even as I cry out to lose control, knowing full well that my death leads to Your Life
And that Life leads to light in others, also unrestrained and brimming
Poor yourself
Amen, Lord.
I follow You fully.
And so I will.
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