heartlights

My heart has become a mute. My head has become a bossy bully, running the show like a know-it-all. And my meek heart has submitted. Yesterday God asked my heart to speak for me, but my heart just told me to listen to whatever it was my head was saying.

I need to find a voice for my heart.  

When I was in high-school I used to write poetry everyday. I was inspired by next to nothing, and didn't give a damn what people thought about my work (or so I acted). But now I am full of self-doubt, dreading the thought of words being meticulously conjured and delivered, only to end up sounding, well... adolescent. But the Lord is calling me out of all that. He is fighting for my heart, not my head. 

So here is how I choose to love Him today:

"Heartlights", a poem by Sinead Easdon

patterns and people

straight lines and crooked streets

headlights, breaklights

nightlights and light nights

hear the familiar

pitterpatter

of whispered wonders

fall on this heart of grass

or glass

rain waters stream

through rivers in my soul

i am found, surrounded, caught

wordless

empty-handed

this spirit-breathing warrior

scales the walls of my Jericho

patterns and people

melt

into dusty

straight streets and crooked lines

breaklights turn

to head the light of my house

and 
finally
the nights fade into Light