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When you lift your soul,
sometimes you may need to
lift with your legs.

Place both feet at the base
of the cross,
and brace yourself, for this
is where burdens are lifted
by Christ's outstretched arms -

So, when you lift your soul,
engage your core
and with all your waning strength
with all of your weary mind,
with every ounce
of your weighed down heart -
raise your chin,
fix both eyes on him,
and LIFT with your legs.
Worship is hard sometimes.
Psalm 25:1
To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.

Psalm 68.4
Sing to God, sing praises to his name; lift up a song to him who rides through the deserts; his name is the Lord; exult before him.

Mark 12:30
And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’
Charmour Jul 2
I laugh—
Every time I’m on the edge of breaking.
When tears slip down,
Uninvited,
From eyes that were never meant to spill them.

I laugh with all I’ve got,
As if the sound can drown the ache—
As if pretending
Can make the pain behave.

I wear a smile like armor,
A mask of joy the world applauds.
But beneath it all—
Is a soul quietly screaming,
Begging to be held,
To be heard.

To be told:
It’s okay to cry.
It’s not weakness to feel.
It’s not a sin to break
Charmour Jun 24
If the older ones cry,
They get a hug.....
if i cried, i got a lecture.
I always appear strong,
even when I'm silently breaking inside.
They say,"you're the youngest, you should understand"
But who should understand me?
I wiped everyone's tears,
but mine were called weakness.
In being their strength,
I forgot how to ask for help
Matt Jun 23
A man sits alone,
the waves crashing
against his only support;
a 4 legged stool,
built solely to hold his skeleton-
but never built to bear the rest

the weight of his skin,
with every crash of the waves,
grew incrementally heavier,
until, the man, although supported by his stool
felt himself drowning
dragged by the water
into depths too dark to see the light above,

too weak to fight for the light above the ocean’s surface

A moment of calm
silence
still
he
i
alone
felt the waves
growing again ready to throw me back to despair

my 4 legged stool;
the only structure still holding me up
refused to let me drown
no matter how much i pleadingly screamed for the end
no matter how much i tried to give up
tried to drown
tried to escape

alone with the ocean
i find the value in the stool
she who keeps me afloat,
he who throws a buoy,
or teaches me to float

it is the stool with 4 legs that keeps us fighting against the ocean
so why is it that we tend to only think about our own 2?
This was an exercise in spontaneous poetry in which I was given a random image by one of my friends and I wrote a poem around it. Here is the photo if you are curious: https://images.nightcafe.studio/jobs/7rLr84A2q89twxUCQKQA/7rLr84A2q89twxUCQKQA--1--uxxgw.jpg
Kira Botkina Jun 20
***
Hold on, hold on, just hold on tight,
Though all I want is to give up the fight.
To give in — is death, a cold, quiet call,
To give in — is darkness, the end of it all.
To give in — is silence, a breathless repose,
A sea without wind, where nothing else grows.

A fish swims in circles beneath the blue,
An eagle dives down from the sky so true.
Deep under earth, where no sunbeam has shone,
The emeralds grow, in the dark, all alone.

Yet I am the one who must carry this weight,
Alone in a world with a merciless fate.
Alone, I was missed by the God full of flame,
Who passed me by, not calling my name.

I’d trade this cross on my weary chest
For a stake through the heart and a final rest.
Drive something sharp in the center of me,
Let the willow cry by the still, blind sea.

For the soul still reached, though it crawled and bled,
But the mind believed what the light never said
In nothing but sorrow, in fear, not grace,
In all but love, in a godless place.
An outdated rule,
So many written by fools.
Once again,
A familiar attempt to suppress.
When power is weakly held,
Those who could claim it,
Are weakened.
Yet, no hand keeps down the spirit,
No chain nor cell.
What we long for,
We shall have.
In the face of desecration,
Flames must rise,
From the ashes of the Absolutarian.
Inspired by the works of Igor Vykhovanets, one of my favorite HP poets.
https://hellopoetry.com/flashscr/
Christ is my head
And heart and meekness.
I am His softest part:
I am His weakness,
His shortest length.

I am the *****
In His armor,
The weakest link
In the chain mail
That he favors
Lest it fail.

But His weakness
Is stronger
Than the strength
Of men.

Amen.
Deona Spiteri May 13
We were asked, "What are your strengths and weaknesses?"
I kept looking at the paper as if it was written in an ancient language.
I repeated the question in my head, I'll think of something, right?
Such a simple question, yet my mind was blank.

I could think of so many weaknesses, but so little strengths.
Were strengths something I had to excel at? Do I just lie?
I couldn't mention a strength, I didn't want to seem arrogant.
I couldn't mention a weakness either, so I wouldn't seem like an attention seeker!

It felt funny, I could mention the strengths of those around me,
When it came to myself I was just empty.
Time was fleeting, it was running out,
The more I thought about it, the worse it got.

I began thinking of all the stuff I was good at, or so I thought.
"No, no, no, no!" Why couldn't I think of anything? Was I just talentless?
Why was I so bad at everything?
Inspired by my English classroom lol 😭
Steve Page Apr 24
I just know I'm weak.
And now I know that
and that it's not that unusual,
I now know it better.
Like when you get to know
someone in your life better.
Like your dad - adult to adult
and you find words
that better describe him
and in describing,
you find understanding.
So it's like that.
And now that I know it better
(the weak bit),
I find that I can bear it
better
just like my dad before me.
First line from a podcast I was listening to. The rest came much too easily.
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