My tears of shame,
Are green-blue rain drops
Falling from the stormy clouds above.
They beat against my face,
Reverberating energy through my skin,
Making ripples in my flesh,
Echoing down to my bones.
It’s in my marrow.
Won’t let me go.
Cascading from the heavens,
The puddles turn to streams.
The streams turn to rivers,
And the Current of Embarrassment,
Floats me on my back,
Towards the Lake of Loss,
All the way to the Ocean of my Enemy,
Where waves crash hard,
Where lies fill your lungs,
And you gasp for the the air of truth.
I am plummeted further and further,
Under the ceaseless lies,
Until the ocean’s sandy bottom is my friend.
Until the seaweed,
Curls around my wrists and ankles,
Like demons’ hands,
Anchoring me to the bottom,
Whispering with every movement,
“You will never get out.”
But do I not know?
Your truth is stronger.
What I thought was the ocean’s bottom,
Was simply the soil of my heart.
It’s rocky, hard dirt,
Was softened by the weight of my tears.
The soil of my heart,
Soaked up every wave of the ocean,
Every tear of shame,
Until I was laying on dry land again,
Until the only thing that remained,
Was me, and You.
Then You lifted the clouds,
And shone down on me.
Out of the soil of my heart,
Which once was so hard,
Came bursting forth with green.
Now instead of a River of tears,
A Lake of Loss,
An Ocean of my Enemy,
I am in the Valley of Promise.
Purple irises dot the land before me,
Surrounding my every breath,
Decorating every glimpse of my vision,
And they open their mouths to sing:
“My grace is sufficient for you,
My power is made perfect in weakness.”