Divine Depression

My treasure was dirt for a time.
My luxury was the grime.
Ashes weren't loathsome to me.
Weeping was a pleasantry.
Even the darkness will not be dark to You.

I look not at a perfect complexion, but a broken face.
What visual have we given our Godly divine race?
He was scourged I remember.
Choosing not a spring day, but a winter.
Even the darkness is not dark to You.

So I eat crumbs when given a feast.
I dine on water when that is the least.
I let my bones age
As I dance in holy rage.
Even the darkness wasn’t darkness to You.

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Her

Church is loud and hidden. Full of praise, unprecedented resilience. She bites an apple, then walks into an eternal city. She rests on Sabbath, then battles ignorance. Strong and faulted, given grace and Jerusalem walls. She hides her beauty while Jesus peers significant.

Unstable

The clouds are unstable So too are the waves But my faith is stable, solid. Rally and debate is unstable. Fire and Water too. But, God hold us safe.

Shy Suicide

Disclaimer: This poem was inspired by someone else's struggle with suicide. Don't worry I am not suicidal. Suicide, why do you hide beneath my white skin? Suicide, why do use my fake smile for your sin? Suicide, why do you keep your cover until the rope is tight, the trigger is pulled, the pills are swallowed, the wrists slit? A black phantom behind my face. A dark word behind my lips. A night in my day. Suicide, why do you ensnare all my companions? They didn’t know. They didn’t see. They didn’t recognize who had overtaken me. You left a message on paper; they read in disbelief. Suicide, you are shy, and yet you have the audacity to kill me.

FairWriter

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