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

Fallen.

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

                       sparrow.