Pearls of Grace

Day Three, plus a new poem by Regina McIntosh

Photo Credit: by the author

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Surrender

at the edge of my memories, live beads of shame and regret, hesitant – yet, touching my heart as they bleed the hues of a shadow, silhouetted against the background of trees, symbols of all those things I’ve loved and lost, all the moments that helped me to know who I am. And, more notably – who created this impossibly squashy heart… - this writer, chosen despite her losses

Ezekiel 11:19 “And I will give them one heart, and I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh:”


Yes, there were times…

When I wasn’t only reckless, but could only be named
	with words like foolish, imprudent, ludicrous
		almost laughable – if only 
I had not been transpiring with darkness,
breaking apart the very heart of my own self-esteem,
	while the music of loneliness and fear
		played quietly, screaming
endless words of dread, exhausting my feelings
turning my dreams to distant shadows, 
		memories fading from my spirit, like the mist
			of a gentle dawn, one we never remember
but can look back on and see – there were notes of grace,
	burning through the tears of dew
		blessing the rose petals, the new
			stories in whispers and sighs
selfless, though wrecked by the storms of a distant flood
flowing beyond my reasoning, accusing me
shaming, preventing my heart from seeing through
the silhouettes of grief…

Yes, there were times…

I regret now – those dark stories that I hold onto, 
	refusing to turn them over to my heart, my soul
		I won’t let even my song play the notes, so old
the silence seeks to replace my memories, with a memoir
	praising the time when I did this or did that,
yet, I see through the blinded eyes…

beneath the heartless stories stabbing me in the heart,
releasing adrenaline through my nights
forcing sleep to remain in the distance, where I see
	it will one day give me a bit of peace
		solace from the darkness, the remembrance
dreaded moments, when I grieve
for the girl who was so heedless of her own heart,
so rash, as she rushed into the future
without lighting a candle for those moments
colored in black
	moments written by her own hand, unsteady
		risking all the music that once drew her
to see through the fears, the tears
into the grace that comes near
when she listens, but only hears
the faded sound of a lie, a lesson in how to say goodbye

Yes, there were times…

When my heart, full of regret, allowed the dark
	to seep into my veins, warring with my dreams
		keeping me eternally needy, insecure and wounded
by the things I did – the sins who remember me as the one
who stabbed her own hope, murdered her dreams
poured poison through the veins of her joys
	so eventually
		all she can see
there in the distance, is the senseless way she has, not lived
	but existed – existing
only for the day to be done, before there came One
One who stood by her – even when she was wrong
He loved her – in spite of her – and she sees Him
as the way through the storm, the way through the dark
His love, a light that leads her home… oh, how I remember
the girl-woman who longed for this feeling…

Yes, there were times…

but, now I can see the love that keeps gentling
every breeze, all the winds
leaves dancing as the grief is soothed
	as my heart can feel – the love that is my reason
		for letting go of the past where I was always last
			though I struggled to be first –
	I didn’t know – I’m here to serve!

I sing - rising, holding on to the hand that restored my hope,
promised me, with love – that love would always bring
the beauty of the light, blessing hearts and lives,
restoring the wrong to right – because this Jesus came into my life,
filling me up with a music that is alive – a song that never dies
a song that I’ll dance to throughout all time…
	as it plays softly in the background of a soul who believes
		a soul who can see, the wonder of grace
			filling my life with a second chance
to see the wonderful, the tender, the beauty in sweet surrender!

by Regina McIntosh

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