Saturday, 7 August 2010

Broken Tears.

I can weep no more,
The cascade has finished.
My eyes flutter open
To a performance of dust.

I smile, I laugh
Inside I shake and grieve;
Grieve for my heart,
Torn and shattered.

                             If only I could cry one tear.
                             If only I could speak one fear.

My tongue has been tied;
Knot upon knot binds
My soul from speaking,
My lips voice only lies.

I thought You promised
an end, a beginning.
Surely it's Spring's turn for
Winter has ravished me.

                             Broken tears surround
                             My fears, as waves pound.

My power lifeless beside me,
Unable to lift its head.
Measured breaths, shallow lungs;
A silenced voice, heavy ears.

Tears, bottled and labeled,
Fetching a fair price.
The precious liquid sold;
Validated worthlessness. 

                               Poured onto parched land,
                               Futile dust in my hand.

The wind begins to blow
Whispers, whispers rushing
Through my soul
Of a Voice I used to know.

Echoes from the past,
Images flicker by;
My eyes remember 
A distant, courageous song.

                              Fading and growing,
                              Persistently flowing.

Quietly, quietly Your eyes
Stir my heart
The Beginning has arrived
And the Light of Glory invades.

Incessantly through my defenses
The Truth cuts and divides
I gasp for breath as
The cool grass caresses my face.

                              The wind of grace
                              Fills this space.

Draw to this quiet meadow,
Upon this silent hill
Purple and blue fill the sky
And my heart tentatively beats.

Questions unanswered, sorrow remains
But Your hand is outstretched
And I have seen your eyes
Full of broken tears of grace.

                                I lay by a tree,
                                As the tears flow free.

I wrote this almost a year ago as I listened to this song. It's such a vivid song, if you know what I mean. Anyway....Here are some other words that I read last night that say it miles better and in a much simpler way (isn't that generally the case?).....

For He is the Very Rest.
God wishes to be known,
And it pleases Him that
We rest in Him;
For all that is beneath Him
Will never satisfy us.
Therefore no soul is rested
Till it is emptied of all things
that are made.
When, for love of Him,
It is empty,
The soul can
Receive His deep rest.
-Julian of Norwich, 14th century