My Words

It was one of those days. I sat on my bed, wanting to write something, anything. Words had been elusive for weeks, and I felt as though my ability to write any poetry was fast escaping me. So I wrote what came to mind; what I was feeling, "The words used to flow." And it poured out from there:

My Words

The words used to flow
My thoughts would connect;
Pen to the paper--
Ways to pause and reflect.

But lately it’s not there,
Just broken, jumbled chains
Missing all the links
That make up sweet refrains.

My praise can seem so futile,
My thoughts all scattering.
And yet my voice You’ll raise again,
And through my pain I’ll sing.

And perhaps the pieces will come
To fit the puzzle again;
And the links will join as I raise my hands
To praise You in the rain.

It’s in this storm I find my voice
And raise it only for You;
Above the blustery billows’ roll
My heart is forever true.

Jesus, in the darkness of pain
I will cry out, and be heard;
For in Your heart of love unmeasured
You’re storing every word.

And now, overcoming futility,
I’ll keep clinging to Your hand
To rise again above it all
And on Your rock I’ll stand.