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Thomas David Dec 2019
I turn to red at beauty’s peak
With warmth, my leaves wear wanton streak
Of golden, gloried, armor ‘splayed
Adorned by flame’s immortal blade.
But fire is weak to water’s burn
So though I glow ‘gainst grass and fern
Reflecting rays of Thursday light
On loftened winds, a raisėd kite
A single splash of freshened sigh
Will swiftly cast my leaves awry.

O gloried, many-colored coat!
That Father through incarnate note
Composes of the deadened leaves
That up a hill my Saviour heaves;
You hid my shame at garden’s end!
Why can’t you mend this twisted bend?
Why can you not, accessory,
Re-tailor tailor’s imagery?
Or pound these hands so deeply pricked
Before the wrongful fruits be picked?

Remember Friday’s curtain ripped
The gambled robe the soldiers stripped;
No cov’ring, cloak, imputed cloud
Can blur or bow a beast unbowed.
A garment’s graze may sickness stave,
But it was left inside the grave!
Instead I see His ruptured side
Ascend with Him to be His Bride.
If crowned into that image lanced
One climbs to where no cloak advanced.

The tree’s no trick: not cheaply tried
It is man’s fate indemnified.
T’was Adam’s fate to **** his God—
Beyond which nought can e’er be awed—
His choice fulfilled in depths of hell
Where tortured, godless Adams dwell.
But choice fulfilled in parallel
By tortured, godless, Christ as well.
My soul will with the former fade
Or will be nailed to latter’s clade.

So shed my reddened leaves, O Lord!
And make me face the snows unmoored
From comforts, calm, conveying no
Dependence on the ground below.
My feet no longer need be shod:
They’ll hang with His, pierced with their God
Below the tortured martyr’s cry
Where Perfect Blood will sanctify.
I praise, I’ll praise you for the night:
Though I sin more, my sin I fight.
We are justified by Christ's suffering through our own.
Dylan McFadden Jul 2019
I remember...

The night my Daddy gave me his t-shirt,
And I wore it to bed

It smelled like him,
It felt like him,
It clothed me totally,
And made me feel so small

And now, it was mine!
And I loved it so...

And Daddy said to me:
"One day, you'll grow up into Daddy's t-shirt..."

But the years came and went,
And Daddy's t-shirt still didn't fit...

...More and more so,
But never perfect

And even today,
As I've become a Daddy myself,
My Daddy's t-shirt wears quite large

But it's still mine.

And it still covers me.

And I remember what Daddy said,
And this I know with all my heart:

One day, it shall fit perfectly.

thepoeticwit Nov 2018
Alas, see one is
become unworthy
to question the mysteries of
salvation and sanctification.

When the believer,
the saint
falls into sin,
he is rendered silent
before the throne of God.

The awkward tension
between friend and foe
is felt.

he asks,
"What does it mean
to be saved?"

And though try as he might,
his jaw is sealed shut;
he dares not make a sound to speak.

Silent as silent accusations
pile upon himself.

In his mind, screaming
Yet dares not draw near
to pray.
Little was it known that lustful sins arise at the peak of 3am in the morning.
A Psalmist Jun 2016
What amnesia is this? I can’t remember.
Can someone wake me up, September?
I know what I know, or I think I thought I did.
I see what you’ve shown me and heard what you said.
But is it in one ear and out the other?
Is short term memory loss something I suffer?
I have seen your goodness time and time again,
And that makes perfect sense why I continue to sin.
Wait, what? That doesn’t make any sense!
Yet that’s what continues to happen after repentance.
I taste and see that the Lord is good.
But I don’t see and savor Christ as I should.
I know this must change if I want to draw nearer,
So I’m starting with the man in the mirror.
He’s broken, bad luck for seven years,
Of confusion and chaos about things unclear.
A response to an altar call, where that came from I can’t say,
But did it ever come at all, if he wasn’t altered in any way?
And I’m not talking about the 3 years still at home,
I think that pertains to my 4 years on my own.
I’ve been told so much truth and studied the Word,
But all for naught because I can’t recall what I’ve heard.
I sin because I forget, and I forget because I sin,
A vicious cycle with no apparent end.
I look at myself in the mirror, and want to remember when I go,
But as soon as I leave, he’s just somebody that I used to know.
And I wish it was a fault of the mirror, of why I forget so fast,
That it was the mirror that was broken, or at least made with stained glass
Because the reflection is of someone who’s stained,
Stained with sin and a stain on his face,
Both known by him, while abstaining from grace,
Because it’s this grace that makes him feel like a disgrace,
A misfit who’s been misplaced,
Who’s misused and abused grace.
Because I know I’ve been cleaned from all my mess ups.
But still trying to apply cover-up and make-up.
Trying to cover-up sin so no one can possibly see
And trying to make-up for what I’ve done despite being set free.
I want to forget these, I’ve wanted and I’ve tried,
To remember grace and forget what I’ve applied.
That I’ve applied myself too much and I’ve applied fake-up,
Trying to fake it ‘til I make it, but making myself throw-up,
Throw up my arms and say I can’t take it anymore.
I know I can’t remember a lot but I know I’ve gone through this before.
It’s a familiar feeling, this déjà vu.
It’s a familiar feeling, this déjà vu.

That I am annoyed with my memory destroyed,
That I don’t know how to remember and I forget how to think
And my chain of thoughts has a missing link.
When did I forget how to fight sin? That loving God wasn’t a chore?
Why can’t I remember the joy he’s shown me before?
When did I forget how beautiful He is?
When did I stop saying “He is mine and I am his”?
I don’t know if I want to know, I’m scared to find out
I’m afraid to readdress my old foe of doubt.
I thought he was slain; we had a battle and he lost it.
But I guess that wasn’t the case. He’s just a skeleton in my closet.
And he’s got a bone to pick with me, some business unfinished.
He’s back for round two and this time with a vengeance.
If he wants another go, I’ll try my best
To recall what I know, and pass this history test.
So what was it before, what truth did I heed?
How can I remind myself of what I need?
I don’t know…..i guess I’m history.
I can’t remember how I last had victory.
But just because I didn’t know doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
And that right there was the lie I was trapped in.
Two years ago was more than a matter of salvation,
I was questioning exactly when I had regeneration.
Was it high school? College? Was it still to come?
I knew I had seen change but where was it from?
But someone can know if they’ve been born, even if they don’t know their birthday.
And I can apply that train of thought in a similar way.
I don’t know how to love God like I used to,
But just because I can’t remember doesn’t mean I never knew.
Things aren’t as black and white, not a matter of hot or cold.
There are such things as infernos that start to grow old.
There can be blazes that start to dwindle,
But that just means it’s time to rekindle.
God knows we are prone to forget and drift into embers
But that’s why his word instructs us to remember.
If we could always abide, he wouldn’t give us those commands,
But it’s because we fall down does he tell us to stand.
To stand firm in our faith, fixing our eyes on Jesus
To look in the mirror and think of how He sees us,
How he seized us to clean us,
To redeem us and teach us,
To tell us to remember what he’s done on the cross,
To give us solid faith, and not be a wave that is tossed.
But don’t get me wrong, amnesia can be good because even Jesus forgets
He remembers our sin no more, they’re as far as the east is from the west.
And that’s why I don’t recognize the man in the mirror.
I’m expecting to see someone who’s no longer here.
The old me is dead, a memory from the past.
He was destined to die, never meant to last.
So in this time of personal reflection,
I need to see myself through Christ’s resurrection.
My identity isn’t in all the wrong I have done.
It is a soldier, a servant, and especially a son.
If there’s one thing I want to share that I’ve learned over the years
It’s that sanctification isn’t easy, but I urge you to persevere.
We’re all on a journey, and I say don’t stop believing.
Think of the praise we will be receiving.
“well done my good and faithful servant.”
Hearing that from the one who’s love is perfect.
There will be sin and doubt, persecution and suffering,
But oh the joy that comes from being with our king!
So I encourage you to remember truth and fight the good fight,
And don’t ever forget in the dark what you’ve learned in the light.
There is a shadow in my heart before your throne.
From a man who would dare dethrone you.
But the more he bows the more he knows.
That the shadows in my heart are not true.

The more he kneels the shadow fails
The more he sleeps the light prevails
And when he dies, all will know
He wasn't the Son just a window.

— The End —