Poem B

A Prayer from Your Child

Lord it's so easy to give you a hand

but so hard to give you my hands

they were made to do your very kingdom work

but I am not fit to serve a king

no I am not fit to serve a servant of a king 

And my hands have held things and people they never should have 

my fingerprints leave marks of sin, and slander has seeped in under my nails

Lord it's so hard to give you my hands

Lord it's so easy to give you my feet

as long as your path leads me by still waters

for I seem to still stumble every now and then 

I am the type of person that could trip on air

and lucky for me you don't air my faults on television screens 

you could fill entire news shows with all of the mistakes i've made before i have even eaten breakfast

I'm sure glad i don't have to walk a mile in your shoes

They'd be too big for me to fill and I'd just stumble even more

Lord it's so hard to give you my feet

Lord it's so easy to give you my eyes

They are lamps

not shaded, but filled with your light

but sometimes bulbs burn out every now and again and I'm not even tall enough to change them myself

And I stay in the darkness while I fumble and fall until I can't possibly stand it anymore

They are doors

choosing to shut out your beauty and creation and only opening to the pain of this world

They are filled with question marks and brimmed with tears for your people and their sufferings

Lord it's so hard to give you my eyes

Lord it's so easy to give you my soul

You made it after all, it's not even mine to give

my heart beats in time with your creation

my blood pumps your love through my veins

I am human but I am loved

And you are love

Even my lungs know to obey your commands

you have stopped my breath time after time

Sharp intakes and gasps remind me to appreciate that I am here

I long to give you all of me

But I am selfish, I'm a hoarder of emotions

an over achiever of carrying my own burdens

I am hard headed and hard hearted and hard to understand

but you know every outline of my bones

you know the songs that I write out of struggles

and the walls that I build to shut everyone else out

you know their blueprints better than I do

and here I am

merely a child

arms lifted high as i praise. not to feel closer to you

but to reach up to my Heavenly father as i learn to walk in his ways

to catch your blessings and your mysteries on my finger tips and to burst forth with your spirit

You take me as I am with stains and rough edges and you mold me into something beautiful

Lord I long to give you all of me