hymn for the self-conscious man
grace wakes me in the morning
and my sin puts me to bed each night
when my lips open with singing
how can they close with spite?
i am not who i thought i was
i'm so much worse, i can't see what
there is to save or love
why do i mumble these words
that are just not my own?
for others to listen and not for
the only one who hears me..
i am not who i thought i was
i'm so much worse, i can't see what
there is to save or love
are these hands raised up
in praise my own
cause i don't know what
lifts them if not my unending questions
i am not who i thought i was
i'm so much worse, i can't see what
there is to save or love
and my sin puts me to bed each night
when my lips open with singing
how can they close with spite?
i am not who i thought i was
i'm so much worse, i can't see what
there is to save or love
why do i mumble these words
that are just not my own?
for others to listen and not for
the only one who hears me..
i am not who i thought i was
i'm so much worse, i can't see what
there is to save or love
are these hands raised up
in praise my own
cause i don't know what
lifts them if not my unending questions
i am not who i thought i was
i'm so much worse, i can't see what
there is to save or love
posted by jdm at 6:20 AM
1 Comments:
hi there. don't know you but ran across you on WordCat's bloggings. Your potery is really lovely. I relate to it and appreciate it and have found that poetry, in particular, captures things i have felt or am feeling and makes me feel not-so-lonely in the thoughts that tumble through my head like a dryer stuck on high-heat.
Lately i have been seeing lots of ways that i am "not who i thought" and as one mentor put it, perhaps it is becasue i often imagine myself to be the "ideal" person i am instead of acknowledging the "real" person... the person who thinks and does and is the things that are not the me i thought i was. But it is me--it is the deepest i have come in understanding my nature of sin (which is to be honest, a shameful reality as well, at this point in my discipleship). Sitting with it is hard. But it's real, for a change.
Anyway, thanks for the poetic words that capture the tension of such wrestling.
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