A Poem of Old

Something I have realized for my own artistic expression is that I need to be depressed to produce anything of worth. I have fallen into a rut of complacency in the past year or two, or maybe I have just been so distracted by the life of my own daughter to spend any time reflecting upon my own life. Here is a poem I ran across in an old journal of mine, written during my senior year of college.

O Lord my God.
I cry out to you.
Where are you.
I search for you
You are nowhere-
So I have concluded.

The world-this world I live in
Is so full of hate
And misgivings
And hypocrisy
How can I find you in all this
Where is the hope
Where is the love
Where are all things found in you?


I am a pit of nothingness.

Producing nothing of worth
Loving nothing
Risking nothing
by hating everything
And everyone.

How can you love me?

I cry, Lord, I cry to you
till my mouth is dry
and my throat is destitute
till I open my mouth
and all I produce is silence.

Because that is all I hear.

I am deaf.

I am deaf to your answer,
your whisper, your shout
I am deaf to you.

And if you touched me,
I did not feel it
because I am numb,
Numb to all touch
The brush of your embrace
The breath of your life upon my lips
goes unnoticed.
I cannot feel.

I searched and searched for you-
but did not find
My eyes were covered
with the veil of my selfishness
My own selfish ambition
and I am afraid that
I will be blind.
This haze is turning to black
And I will not be able to
see you-
Not even if you stood
Inches from my face.

Tear this from me, Lord.
Heal me.
Make me love.
Make me care.
Take this wretched, lifeless
being I know to be myself-
Scarred and bleeding
Injured and ignorant


Resuscitate me.
Resuscitate me into life anew.



SLW said...

You should put a Podcast of you reading this on your blog...you read it so well.

Craig said...

Your poem has overtones of both the Psalms and Ecclesiastes. It's powerful - thanks for sharing it.