Poetry, Pt. 1

I've been embarking on a new adventure.  One that I've been doing for a long time (though not on here, sorry).  I really hated academic writing.  My dissertation was nightmarish.  However, I love words and I like writing creatively.  My poetry has been published under pen names in various places, but I've decided to just stop worrying about whether what I'm writing is perfect or whether people will like it and just click "publish."

Two friends 

Today someone asked me about my regrets
If I died today what would be my debts,
to society,
to piety,
whether I'd have notoriety
and who I'd be

The first thing I thought were the things that I've done
To hurt and blame
I just having fun
Causing drama
and relationship trauma
Taking anything and everything to make me feel calmer
I was in a terrible mental state
In a prison I that knowingly helped create
Throwing caution to the wind
While my emotions dimmed 
And darkness followed me round the bend

And my biggest regret involves my two friends:

Both I lied to and hurt and misrepresented
And I'm so glad Facebook hadn't yet been invented
Their reactions made me who I am today
But they both responded in different ways

One saw my pain, discerned but ignored it
Fled from the scene when she should've run toward it
Her love was expensive and I couldn't afford it.

The other bound up my wounds and carried my burdens
Encouraged me when my very life seemed uncertain
When all I had was dark, she just pulled back the curtain

She never looked at me with scorn or derision
And never judged me for my rough disposition
and never made me feel like an imposition
And she wasn't the Christian

She never saw my actions as some price of admission
to an exclusive club of sin prohibition
She just loved me and loved me in vain repetition
And she wasn't the Christian

She never needed recognition
Or used my sin as ammunition
but somehow fulfilled the Great Commission
And she wasn't the Christian

She showed me true love without condition 
She gave me vision,
And I was her mission
And she wasn't the Christian

And yet since then I've been the first friend
The one shown grace who wouldn't touch sin
who judges others lives with no idea of what's within

We like to think we're so filled with purity
But really we're worried about emotional security
Far more concerned with the number of bums in church seats
than we are caring for the ones on the street
We don't want to cause discomfort or disunity
And we're missing love's greatest gospel opportunity
We've forgotten to forgive our debtors
when they sin against us we think we're so much better

If Jesus returned and asked us tonight
our alibis for where we've been would be airtight
I'm sure that all of our service is worthy
But we would be more like Jesus if we got our hands dirty
Loving others means carrying their baggage
Being there even when it's more than we can manage
Stepping out and letting him protect our hearts
and not turning our backs if others seem to miss the mark

If I'm going to live eternally, I want no regrets
I'm not going to live like one who forgets
The price of a life given up as loss
When he carried my sin upon a cross
There are two paths we can follow:  love or slavery.

I'm breaking my chains.  I choose to be free.


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