Sunday, January 30, 2011

till the lighted song rises

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but a drop of water
to the average eye
they fall headlong from
the blackened sky

once stars shining
innocence illumined
black holes absorbing
heavenlies diminished

now lost in invisible
sea waters crying
tears of the orphan
heart’s flame dying

within His children
Holy Spirit pleads
make me Father to
all this naked need

and I hear His voice
rising in homes
bringing in the abused
embracing the lone

but the invisible sea
is not silent yet
myriad of lost stars
given to fallen debt

she roars and screams
and her healing comes
not in blanket of white
love once given done

but in reddened groans
that bleed from deep
and call each of His
people to rise and meet

His heart infinite
and ears attuned
to the raging ebbing
with power embued

and I ask for this
love the journey long
till orphaned generations
rise in lighted song.

AWA 1/30/2011


photo credit: flickr creative commons


Written for thehighcalling.org’s Random Act of Poetry: Mistaken Identity
Here’s the prompt: For this week’s Random Acts of Poetry, write a poem to, or in honor of, an orphan, someone you know who has adopted one, or your own adopter.


This was a hard prompt for me.  I know so many beautiful ones that have adopted and want to be optimistic in what I write and there are too many beautiful families to count that I could have written solely about.  We still hope to have our own adoption story one day...

I love Compassion and Gospel for Asia and others and our kids have two brothers and a sister through these ministries. 

But my heart went to another place…I was so gripped by the invisible orphans…amidst the people God is calling us to live among long bereft of hope and children isolated in homes even though mother and father be there.  But, often they aren’t and physical presence is just that and spirits lay darkened and I thought of this people and their neighbors and how they represent this generation the world over…so many in an invisible sea of orphans.  Then the generation in our schools in the U.S. that we will leave behind to follow the call to another people.  We have lived among them and we have seen their orphaned souls that manifest all that it means to be fatherless and without guide in a world gone wrong.  And I weep and pound the table and I know of this invisible sea hearing its screams and I plead that we as His people never stop but ever grow in the caring for the orphan in all that that entails…this poem comes from that prayer.


also sharing with Imperfect Prose @ Emily’s…since this breaks and bleeds me, there’s nothing else I really want to share…for a little while at least…
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