Self-portrait

 

I started in the middle and went downhill from there

Surely too fast … not a wish in my heart to slow down

With a smile and a tear … to be seen everywhere

As I enjoyed my “life” as it was … ever loosing ground

 

Never grew up much … not protecting my name

Hungering for respect … in the wrong places

With folks just like me … distributing pain

Living in crowds … with expressionless faces

 

I guess I did well … as I plunged to the bottom

Scarred and scraped … I am quite a sight to see

One thing for sure … I feel pretty rotten

As I look around me … to what I now will be

 

Still on my own … I start the search for a ladder

As hands are reaching out ... to drag me down

Where now is hope … and does it really matter?

Is this what’s left … a tear for a clown?

 

Is there no one here … who can show me a way?

Does not anyone … have a simple clue?

What’s left for my “life” … a continuous waste?

After all the dreams … now resting in just puke?

 

No winds are here to supply … a breath of fresh air

No trucks to haul off … depravity’s trash

Nowhere to go to hide ... from mire and slime

That keeps running downhill in this mess

 

Up to my ankles … up to my waist,

Then to my neck … stepping on death’s fodder

Is there no escape ... out of the hellish place?

Only survival instinct left ... at expense of another?

 

Grabbing and clawing folk ... pulling me down

As they step on my arms ... shoulders and head

Also in search … for a way out of this place

Realizing so well … they made their own bed

 

My eyes desperately searching over the hills

Vaguely I see now some old pieces of wood

Appears like a cross … maybe more than one

If I could grab it … I could float for sure

 

The only hope now … is to get a strong hold

But they are so far … way too far away

A hand comes from one ... and reaches down

To pull me up … and take me away

 

Where is the filth and where is the smell

Why do I feel pure and clean?

Who is the voice … if you can tell?

Who knows where I have been?

 

“I am not worth it”... the voice from my mouth

“I always lived for myself

I was so selfish … filthy and proud

Why am I delivered from hell?”

 

Then The Living Word:

 

“If you discover who you are and know your need

And have your eyes in despair ... glued on the cross

How can My Father refuse to help and not turn your feet?

For you to leave sincerely … all the sin and its dross?”

 

“You reached out for Him in full desperation

When you knew … to survive was all gone

So He smiled on you and gave you Salvation

For there is nothing ... that you could have done”

 

“So now I prepare you … help you to see

And I’ll give you power and strength

To go down that hill and point others to Me

So your days are invested and not spent”.

 

“So give Me high five … no give Me ten

For I will surely be with you

Gifts of the Spirit I’ll secure in your tent

So use them … in all that you do”

 

The end of a story … the beginning of Life

Written by God in my heart.

No more confusion … no more strife

Except when the flesh wants "its" part

 

Jan Wienen