I cannot make poetry come,
says the brain.
you have to let it flow
you have to let it be
you cannot force the words.
and still I'm trying
not to be e.e.
or even mary
but just to express the things behind my eyes
the place that is sometimes dark and dreary
lately: heavy
weighed down by thoughts
of papers tests too much caffiene
not enough sleep

but I want to have joy
to be full to the brim
and yet again I cannot make it come
but the joy is here
in the heart of flesh
beneath my chest
and these momentary troubles
they will pass
because my path is set out before me
hemmed in behind and before by a
Hand
that is greater than my own
that will protect and guide and lead the way
Who already knows the way to go.

I will praise You because
my darkness is nothing before You.
(even the darkness is not dark to you)

where shall I go from your Spirit?
or where shall I flee from your presence?
I awake and I am still with you.



some of this was inspired by psalm 139.