Imprisoned Life

Imprisoned Life

Within a cage the heart does cry,

No hope to stand against a lie

And beats in pain to be set free

To all that it was meant to be

To wipe away the loss and past

In order to preserve and last

A heart was not made for bitter end

But overcome and make amend

A rectifying God is He,

Who made this heart to dance for free

Believe in hope of healing hands

Of One that molds the heart to stand

1.17.12

Occasionally I wonder how that poem escaped my thoughts. One day I sat down and my fingers started typing out the first lines before I realized what I was even writing about. Then it dawned on me that I wasn’t writing a poem just to complete a homework assignment.

I typed more. The truths that had been jumbled in my head were now words. And these words summarized a few prayers that had been recently forged on my heart.

Halfway through the poem I realized I was writing this poem for someone whether I meant to or not.

It’s the oddest experience to sit back after writing something and wonder who wrote it...(I’m not magic am I?) Like a teacher helps a 1^st grader form letters, Someone helped me. --yeah we’ll forget that I’m a junior in high school for a few minutes--

I didn’t know what to expect, but the effect this poem had on the person God intended it for was not what I had imagined. But I refuse to own the words that so beautifully and tragically captured a picture of an imprisoned life.

This is not my poem. It belongs to the One who spoke out His Truth through me. Who am I?

Romans 9:21