A Little Poetry, Expressing to the Lord

A plea emerges from the depths of me, and I wrestle, for I have no answer.

Too many thoughts and yearnings I’ll not have time for.

When will I have time for?

I want to write, to compose, to explore.

To read, to be me, to find more.

Yet the monotony of school takes it away,

All the time and energy I have in a day.

“I’m trapped!”

My yearning to express and create are buried.

Instead, I am left with a lengthy must-do list hurried.

Since when did I dislike this so much?

Homework, studying, even practicing.

I find myself…procrastinating?

But I don’t have time for writing fiction in “free” time,

For to find time would mean more “me” time.

A plea emerges from the depths of me, and I wrestle, for I have no answer.

Will I not have opportunity to do what I want?

Will I be in the workplace just as distraught?

“Do what you love,” I’m encouraged, but that is the thing.

I love to write, to create, make music, and serve the King.

How am I ever to do all that?

Will I have to give it all up?

What if…I hear, and I lower my head.

Maybe surrendering is what I’ll do instead.

So I lay it all down, ready to do anything.

I feel God’s smile, and to him I start to sing.

I have forgotten my faith.

I have lost all patience.

When?

When will I know?

There are so many questions I have unanswered.

Oh ye of little faith.

A plea emerges from the depths of me, and I wrestle, for I have no answer.

Why do you wrestle with yourself? Why do you have to be the one with the answer?

But, Lord, I’m in turmoil!

An ascending d minor seventh chord plays a lonesome scale.

But I’m right here, I will never leave you or forsake you.

Why can’t I see you?

Are you looking? 

I pause and the haunting melody stops abruptly.

I take the plea in my hands, one that I don’t even understand, and hand it to him.

Keep on living. Don’t stop all to wait.  Trust my timing. 

I do not understand what is in the depths of me.

But God created me.

He knows me better than I do.

Let me near.

And so I shall.

Written 1-20-13, Anna Olson

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