wings will come

In times of turmoil, I am comforted by the psalmist’s words: “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul….” (Psalm 23:2-3) Restoration sometimes comes through transformation.
 
God bless
 

“wings will come”
 
it is invasive and clings
    around me, a constant reminder.
trapped: changing and no way
      to chew free of bindings 
            I spun myself with wishes and choices
         that I never knew could lead here.
but in the gauzy darkness i
know the wings
    will come.
 
you have been hoping for your own day
         in the open 
     for even longer than I have.
I cannot see you anymore,
     but somewhere in your own cocoon
  you are growing colors like 
      Arizona sunsets
that are outlined with your bold resolve
     like an inked sketch of
     your future.
 
let’s meet in the air,
you and I.

 
 
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wings will come by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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Foundation

Hello everyone,
 
The story of Nehemiah in the Bible is about a man dedicated to the work of God. His project was rebuilding Jerusalem’s wall and the Jewish culture there after it had been conquered by enemies. It was not a smooth ride, and at the end of the story, Nehemiah makes many prayers asking, “Remember me, O my God,” because he feels like no one else is, even after all his work (Nehemiah 13:14).
 
Though he did not get a resounding victory, Nehemiah stayed in step with God every day by telling Him his fears (“Remember me”), asking for His help, and doing his best in everything. However our own goals in life turn out, we can follow Nehemiah’s example and live a testimony like his in all we work for.
 
God bless
 
Nehemiah 13:14 “Remember me, O my God, concerning this, and do not wipe out my good deeds that I have done for the house of my God and for his service.”

“Foundation”
 
Weary hours crush
     your shoulders.
The foundation you dug
    for your dream is now
    another hole in your field of years
       like the backside of the moon:
                          a bit closer to the stars,
             but full of craters. 
 
You dug deep and sure,
   worked alongside friends,
   poured in your soul—
and watched
            greedy soil suck it dry.
 
You won’t dig again.
 
I join you, trembling tearfully to see
     you stare at another lost foundation.
You, the wise one, the encourager,
     the longest fighter. 
What did each hole bring you?
They are candles without enough wick,
     so bright and perfect, and then they run out.
 
I sit beside you at this latest hole.
         I have no words for the future; I am young and
         still imagine rainbows behind black clouds.
But in this moment, 
   from what I’ve seen so far,
I tell you this: 
Every shovelful you took
    showed me your passion,
    dedication, and daring.
Every new dream you worked for
    taught me I could work for mine.
Every bit deeper you went, 
     grace and tenacity and boundless faith
     dug lines into your hands, curling
        around calluses like calligraphy
            spelling out your love for creation.
 
I do not know if this field
     will hold the answers, 
but still,
     I pray you will dig again.

 
 

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Foundation by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Threshold

Hello everyone,
This is a poem for all facing changes and transitions in their lives. We are told by Jesus Christ not to be concerned about the future (Matthew 6:25-34). When we focus on and value our present moments, even ones of change, I think we can see beauty where we are—or where we are headed.

God bless
 
“Threshold”
 
I face doorways with dread boiling hot and fierce in my bones, a primal fire.
Warily, I cross into the halls
beyond.
 
Trouble, joy, questions, answers, faith, and fear
cram the hallways and rooms I find.
my eyes miss the angels and stare
at the demons smirking at my feet.
 
Heart like a rocking ship, I set out,
and only when I reach
the threshold
do I know it is always
an entrance
and I am here before I ever took the time
to cherish what lay behind.
 
I have met too many doorways with fear.
it is time I forge forward with a weather eye,
just as ready to spot rainbows as storms.
 
 
Creative Commons License
Threshold by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.