an effort to squeeze my soul like a lemon
i always imagined when i was a kid
that the trees whispered words in the breeze
and if i listened hard enough
i could hear what they were saying to me
only me
every windy day that would come along
i'd walk down the the park and sit on the swings
and close my eyes and thrust my legs rhythmically
propelling myself deeper into the whisperings
it's been so long since i've listened to the breeze
or even since i've thought to sit in a swing
things seem so much simpler when you're so much smaller
which is strange because the world is that much bigger
and when you're older and smarter and can keep your eyes open wider
you realize how much more there is that you still can't quite see
eyes peeking just over God's counter top
and he smiles down at us, kindly
that's a dumb image of God, sorry.
God, for me, has always been more like a fire in my belly
roared, with what i imagine sometimes, to be birthing pains
and when i don't listen because of one reason or the other
i think it's his voice
that becomes the whispering trees
that call me gently
then spontaneously ignite the forest on fire with his irresistible passion
God, to me, has always been hot or cold
never in between.
bathing me in fire
or rinsing me with water
never sitting silently
he's always called me out
when i am wrong
with the sound of thunder in his throat
the smell of lightning in his hair
and he shuts hard every wrong door
till the only way out is through him
and everytime he's been faithful
to show me the gentle fulfillment he brings
"you open your hands
and satisfy desires of all things,
my God and King"
that the trees whispered words in the breeze
and if i listened hard enough
i could hear what they were saying to me
only me
every windy day that would come along
i'd walk down the the park and sit on the swings
and close my eyes and thrust my legs rhythmically
propelling myself deeper into the whisperings
it's been so long since i've listened to the breeze
or even since i've thought to sit in a swing
things seem so much simpler when you're so much smaller
which is strange because the world is that much bigger
and when you're older and smarter and can keep your eyes open wider
you realize how much more there is that you still can't quite see
eyes peeking just over God's counter top
and he smiles down at us, kindly
that's a dumb image of God, sorry.
God, for me, has always been more like a fire in my belly
roared, with what i imagine sometimes, to be birthing pains
and when i don't listen because of one reason or the other
i think it's his voice
that becomes the whispering trees
that call me gently
then spontaneously ignite the forest on fire with his irresistible passion
God, to me, has always been hot or cold
never in between.
bathing me in fire
or rinsing me with water
never sitting silently
he's always called me out
when i am wrong
with the sound of thunder in his throat
the smell of lightning in his hair
and he shuts hard every wrong door
till the only way out is through him
and everytime he's been faithful
to show me the gentle fulfillment he brings
"you open your hands
and satisfy desires of all things,
my God and King"