I am leading a Writing and Spirituality workshop right now, which explores how storytelling and creative writing can connect us with God and help us explore spiritual truths. Today, I will continue work on a short story that I’m writing for that class. However, I wanted to share on here two poems that I wrote through poetry exercises that another friend of mine led in his spiritual writing workshop. The first was composed before isolation and the second one after.
The first poem is a Found Poem. Found Poetry is composed by taking a passage of writing - in this case, Scripture - and meditating on it, highlighting and drawing around the words that stand out to you. The passage was Exodus 33 - but as you can see from my illustration, my poem was crafted around parallels that stood out to me with Genesis 3 - God offers sweet fruit without his presence, but this time, intimacy with him keeps us stubbornly close to Him. The poem reads:
“Depart.”
But I will not go.
Stripped.
Everyone who sought would stand.
The pillar of cloud would stand.
Face-to-face.
His friend
Would not depart.
Please show me.
Please show me your glory.
”You shall stand.
My glory passes by.”
The second poem is a Psalm, just a simple poem of honest emotional communication to God. I recommend taking some time to try to write your own, especially with everything going on right now! I’ll make another post soon about healthy lamentation and Biblical grief, but for now — grab a pen and paper and just try to write what you feel.
Psalm of Open Windows
My heart finds rest
In a world of concrete
Where my feet
Meet the street
And I become
Invisible.
A passing face in a public space
Tuned in and
Drowned out
Feelings fading in a tidal wave of sounds
Of strangers
Teenagers Tik-Tokking
Moms walking
Phone talking
I’m lost in feeling small
And I love that.
But through a window I watch
The streets fall still
And the shrill scream of sirens
Are crying for help I don’t know how to give
How to live
When I’m feeling this small.
And then there’s You
Large
Loving
And loving
me
While I desperately try to be invisible.
