Weekday Run

Dedicated to my good friend, Ben, for his kindness and Christ-likeness, used by God to reawaken me to the love of my Savior during a difficult time in my life. Friendship is a beautiful gift, wonderfully mysterious too; cherish it!

Weekday Run
December 2008

My feet and mind run
over the day’s debris,
beat (It’s Friday) the beaten path
of Bolin Creek trail and memory—
why I started running
in the first place: Gibson Park,

Ben. He was the kind of kind
that made me laugh
at my vanity after a 5K.
“Who cares if you’re sweaty?—
You’re pretty.
Besides, your eyes become bluer
and get flecked with bits of sun-
shine after a good run.”
Come on? No—
he ended with “Come on,
up for another mile?”, smiled.
He understood the nature of friendship,
running ahead of me,
watching his feet as a way
of protecting mine (a few steps behind)
from rocks or roots or other dangers
between footfall and falling;
because he knew that I’d be admiring
the turning leaves,
and I knew he’d be listening
when I told him of yellows and reds
and all the transformations from green
that the season was causing in me.
He must have sensed my fear
of the spur of life
that started in my feet,
cut through calf and knee, thigh and side,
to leap into my heart beating faster,
because—just then—he looked
over his shoulder
to tell me not to give up.
“I’ll carry you if I have to.”
And he would’ve.
He led me
beside water fountains
to a seat in the soft grass
to slow the heart, catch breath,
and accept the gold of generous June.
Quiet in my tiredness and contentment,
he’d break his runner’s silence
with “I’ve been thinking…”
and surprise me each time: wisdom-, life-
words that seemed to belong to a man;
weighty words, strong enough to build upon.
He called forth some spring song
from my winter chest
before moving on
as friends do.

I've written two poems over the last couple of days. I'm just blogging them for fun, hoping to have time to revise later. They're a little different, but I hope you find them enjoyable (at least in an artistic sense :D), and, as always, I would love to hear any feedback!

A couple notes: I suggest reading "Vision" aloud, and "White" is a loose sonnet.

Vision
July 20, 2009

threshold
thrashing gold
fire yield
fivefold
wheat field
clay and stone
grown feet,
peace-shod,
walking home
tracking God

White
July 21, 2009

A party breaks from my memory's hold
and dwells with me, silent, backed against brick:
the perfume of spiced cider and blue gold
burning away a Christmas candle wick.

I stand under the roof's jutting gutter,
watching Sunday snow like a waterfall:
Feather laughter, muffled music--cold shudder.
Saturday's promise: "Once home safe, I'll call,"

forgotten.... He's released himself from cost.
His simple perspective: friendship, no spark.
Mine: my friend, dressed in black, talks; love-look lost.
That night, I'm drowning outside Noah's ark.

Hard thoughts on the white curb turn towards the Skull*.
Forgive. My sins are forgiven in full.

*a translation of "Golgotha," Calvary

Rerouted

It's funny, but often after I've finished working out, God will fill my heart or mind with thoughts of Him and the gospel, and I'll get inspired to do or write something. Maybe with my mind freshly invigorated, I am more alert to His voice and nearness by His Spirit...anyways, it's wonderful!

Today, as I was stretching in the quiet of my room :D, I believe the Lord gave me this (what I'm calling) poetic exhortation; it is paradoxically my own experience, testimony, and continual prayer. I wrote it as it came to me so please forgive its weaknesses. I pray that it will bless and encourage you...and most importantly give you a glimpse of God's amazing love for His children, that you might desire to know more of it!

Rerouted

Sisters, do not awaken love until its time....
If someone pursues you and wins your heart,
wants some of that love;
then blocks its powerful rush,
turns and leaves, changes his mind;
do not dam it up, grieve,
then yield to the lover of your soul.
Ask him to come and break a new route
for that love to flow:
to the ones in need,
to the lost, those without hope,
towards His Son
through which love comes to you.
Where human love fails,
God's perfect love prevails.

God does bind up our hearts
if we give them to him,
and through his miraculous work,
we are not the same when He is done.
In healing, we know a deeper love,
we know the tenderness of His hands--
when renewed, that broken heart
beats stronger after his.