Two Poems

This is the story behind the writing of these two poems...

I was chatting to a friend a few days ago about living life as a Christian. We were talking about the trends in modern life. Some are good and some are fun and some are, well just plain evil. After this conversation, I realised that I had been feeling a longing for the simplicity of childhood. Of course, not all have this privileged, but I found myself really straining under the responsibility to be , well, adult. The real difficulties of making "grown up decisions" was weighing heavily and I felt really bogged down.

The first poem flows from this longing and the second is the very real answer I have to that longing, as a Christian woman. It is all found in Christ alone.

Words , words, words.

My head is full of words this day.

As I sit and sew.

I am sewing a bag : a strong bag for books

That other bearer of words of a different kind.

My mind races here and there full, full of words.

Not the kind I like to have but the kind I must.

I let them flow like a river.

Words , words , words .

Full of life’s longings.

I long for what has been.

For the days when life was full of colour and innocence and fun.

A peaceful meandering of time,

A strong sense of certainty and a real belief in dreams.

What has become of those times?

My mind races back to my family home

The fresh smell of horses and outdoor things

The power of the highveld sun pouring in through the window

The sound of silence and gentleness

The clip clop of hooves and the bark of dogs.

The kindness of time gone is recalled as my mind travels back, before, before

All this…….

Before the present descended and pierced my soul.

I long with an urgent and deep, deep longing. My soul cries for that time but the time is now.

When things are adult and real.

The now of time is full. Yes it is full, full of many things.

It is seldom full of the kinds of things I longed for way back then. Those dreams have been trampled and have long taken flight. I am left rummaging in the sale of my life. Looking for a bargain; a gem of sorts. Longing and hoping for what I am not even sure anymore. Perhaps, perhaps it is the past I long for? Those childish things of days forgotten or perhaps it is the future I hold on to. It would seem that even that I have forgotten.

I press on with the task, sew, sew , sew . Finish the bag that will hold the words that stir younger hearts!

My mind a swirl of words, words, words.

My soul cries out.

Perhaps!

The Answer to Longing.

That longing I spoke of.

What is it?

It is real and present.

It bursts with the sunshine and hides in the shadows of days gone by.

How can it be satisfied?

How can it be helped?

This longing.

If I ponder, even for a moment or a lifetime and think about what could have been?

If I toss and turn in my mind and wrestle with longing and if I come out with any kind of answer it is this…..

Long ago and before time began.

Before the world was pushed and shoved and talked into being.

Long, long ago when the earth was new and fresh and

He walked here. Here I say.

His footsteps were kind and his hand was called friendship.

Longing had no place here.

Yet I, the creature began to long

and hope

and wish for that which was not mine to grasp at.

And the seed of longing and its friend discontentment began to roam freely.

Oh How I tried in vain to shove them back.

Yet He was there, still, kind and loving.

Full of fairness and hope.

He had the answer. He was the answer. I did not see it.

Yet!

“Have it; want it; need it; reach for IT!

IT will quench the longing in your heart and you will be like Him and you will rule with wisdom.

And that lie still flourishes in this age.

It lives on in me and dwells with mankind.

That we the creatures would usurp the throne where sadness, fear, greed and selfishness now rein.

So, that longing I spoke of has its roots in the age before when time was new and the world was fresh.

What can be done?

Who can plug the hole where the dreams of men leak out like the water through the hole into nothingness?

Here, down here, where broken lives have battered bodies and bruised souls

And hide behind masked smiles

I fear it is not I.

In the quite moments when I focus my thoughts on Him, these words soak up my mind like the sponge it is.

Trust

Peace

Joy

Kindness

the treasure at the very centre, holding them all together

Love.

He is love you see.

Everything about him is loving and kind.

Two rare qualities we see very little of these days.

Yet He will not give up and he will seek those who belong to him.

He longs for them with such an urgent kind of longing.

A death, crying longing that pierced the dark sky on a day not so long ago.

That longing and cry still ring out today and rush here and there drawing in any who are able to hear it.

You are mine! Come to me he whispers.

Whispers I say because he is loving and kind and will never force or break.

Yet he never gives up.

His longing drives him on until every creature that every lived will on that day see Him in Glory and splendor.

His longing will be quenched on that day

And so to will mine.