Seventeen years ago–half my life away–I wrote poetry in an effort to cope with the anguish in my soul. Today, my life is very, very different and I no longer write to survive. There have been times since then, though, that I desired to delve into poetry again. But I was afraid to go back there. The poems that I wrote were raw and full of angst. What would it be like to bare my soul again?
I have only written three or four poems since I was a hurting teenager, but it is something that I am ready to explore. I am eager to paint with vivid word pictures once again.
Here is one of my first attempts at free verse after a very long hiatus.
I was raised to be strong
Never give up
Never give in
Strength was independence
A mask for the soul
Where tears reveal pain
The open heart ready to surrender
It is easy to mock the uninitiated
Night and day momentarily combined
Strength made beautiful in frailty
Man of sorrows; King of kings
Brings blindness—for a time—
In cocoon of darkness
Scales fall away to reveal
I am weak
But also strong—in Another—
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made
perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses,
so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.
For when I am weak, then I am strong.
~1 Corinthians 12:9-10