A few thoughts about Thanksgiving and a poem...

Today I am guest posting for my friend Jermaine Lane.  Jermaine has an INCREDIBLE testimony of God's provision and healing.  Make sure you read his story when you stop by HIS BLOG.  You will be blessed!


For the month of November, Jermaine has been sharing his poetic gift with his readers.  As  part of his "Poemvember" (a month of poems) posts, Jermaine asked if I would submit a piece.  I was completely honored, and gave him my submission on November 1st.   I found out at the beginning of this week that my poem would go "live" one day before Thanksgiving. 


On the day before Thanksgiving, kitchens begin to fill with succulent aromas, homes are tidied and decorated, and joy is stirred as families look forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas.


BUT...


MY POEM HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THANKSGIVING.  It's actually a bit heavy.  I got to thinking that most people probably won't want to read such a serious poem during this wonder filled time of year.

THEN IT HIT ME...

It hit me that first and foremost, GOD'S TIMING IS NOT MINE.  I got to thinking about the many people who hurt and struggle during the holidays...and struggle deeply.  Depression is at an all time high this time of year.  Maybe some who will "find" my poem will be blessed to read of my struggle, surrender, and, ultimately,  freedom?   FREEDOM...


Is there anything for which I am more thankful?   


FREEDOM.


Absolutely not.  Even more specifically, FREEDOM from the image I had of myself.  FREEDOM from the image that, perhaps,  I had created.   My poem is about TRANSFORMATION and FREEDOM.  And the more I think about it...

MY POEM REALLY IS A *THANKSGIVING* POEM AFTER ALL...






Happy Thanksgiving to you, and thank you for taking time from your busy life to read my heart ramblings.  May you sense HIS gifts in your life and be touched by HIS presence.  Blessings to you!  





"MIRROR"

I stand before the glass.

Haunted.


The reflection is a stranger.


I slide quivering fingers over the slick smooth form touching cheek, mouth, eyes.


Hollow eyes stare.


I try to pull away hoping for escape from the thunder this glimpse has released in my soul.


Stranded.


I panic. I lunge.  I flail.
Arms move frantic to change the picture before me.


It remains.


I pause to look deeper.
Is this really me?  It can’t really be me.
Yet, this soul reflector has captured my being sure and true.


Without warning, a single stone hurls towards glass.
The sound deafening.  The mirror shatters.
I bend over shards hopeless to scoop them together, to protect, to reassemble.


My image is ten-thousand jagged fragments on the ground.


I curl in a heap of shame.
Confused, broken, lost in a tear river that flows over my ruin of impossibility.


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