come if you're thirsty, come if you're stained come if you're weary, come if you're pained come to the water, the bread and the blood come to Christ's soul-saving covenant flood there's no one too *****, no one too poor no one too broken whose faith He'll ignore come if you hear Jesus calling your name come to be free of all guilt and all shame come if you're willing to cast out old strife come lay your burden and take up new life
I am seventeen years old And I’m sitting at the bottom of my tub. I’ve cracked my wrists open like the windows in my room- I’m trying to let some light in I need to breathe fresh air into my body. this is the only way I know how I have closed the curtains, boarded up the doors. you had a key And you trekked in mud and pine needles from the giant spruce tree outside. I pick them out of my hair And line them up on the side of the stained porcelain tub. I am thinking of putting out a foreclosure sign in my front yard- Abandoning these halls and leaving everything but this stained tub behind. Seventeen is hard and rough, It had calloused hands and it took things from me I wasn’t ready to give.
- I am twenty now - And I’ve redone my home and tore out the stained tub
Stars shining bright above you. Snowflakes flying all around you. The beautiful stillness, The heavenly harmony of silence. Your mittened hand dangles shielded from the cold, Having once been exposed, Never wanting to face the torture again. Once the snow hits the dirt, It will never be the same again, Forever tainted by the unclean ground. Once you step on the ****** snow, It will never be pure again, Forever changed by the footsteps Of those who have harmed the innocence. But when the snow melts, and was there Ever any snow there to begin with? Was there innocence, joy, laughter? Or was it all swept in on a winter wind, As temporary as the season itself, And borne away just as quickly? Is there anything to hurt, to harm? To taint?
Do you remember the last day? Not the one where our words left burns on flesh But the one where our tentative apologies became the salve Where forgiveness became possible And our future was suddenly not set in stone We stole pens and wrote our sins on sweat coated skin Our truths sinking into every wrinkle and every fold we created But in the morning you were gone And in the bathroom I found a washcloth stained with ink.