July 3, 2014

pennings from the plot of land

These are a few of the poems I penned at camp. I cannot claim them to be brilliant, but they are mine, because they were His, and so I present them as the gift they were to me. May they bless you in small ways.

Also, none of them have titles. I just haven't gotten there yet.

I am an emptiness,
a hollow shell
that echoes all I pass
and all I crash into.

I was
until I found

the ocean.

Soul trembles
like aching muscles
that strain
to hold fast
to the rocky places.
No strength to
go higher
only to put off the fall.

But we’ve already

The sun melts
into gold
that runs into tiny
cracks in the rock—
in myself—
I didn’t know existed.
There is light in my veins
and hope rises,
a pale moon,
as though shadows were silver.
The trembling
has not ceased,
nor the task made easier,
only possible.

A thousand
tiny blades of grass
            and I am counted
                 more than a

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