If God let you be. If he turned a blind eye and left you to your own devices, would you survive it?
Would you be able to revive your weary soul without the power of the holy spirit flowing through your veins like the river Jordon?
Pouring blessings to your life, cast away the strife. His eyes are sharper than a knife.
His love should force me to oblige...but sometimes I don't.
Sometimes I rebel and think I can do this on my own.
I believe I am the one that will raise my silver spoon, to my dry lips, spit words of encouragement while my courage flourishes and nourishes your mind like porridge it's...
Challenging.
I take my energy and channel it, wipe my head with my imaginary flannel while being judged by this panel of Pharisees who wanna 'comme sí' like we're in Paris.
In his presence I abide, I wear his blessings like a hide.
And with pride, I stride with my headscarf tied. While the devil lies and lies...and lies, I ride the wave of resistance.
When people doubt His existence, I ensure I exist in Him. Resist sin, I am persisting.
See, sin is the burden we were cursed with. And while we purse our lips and recite the prayers, we've rehearsed we cannot reimburse our creator... He would refuse. And though He recruits us as substitutes for His spirit, we cannot reproduce His power.
But we can accept His truth.
Now, we can't rebuke sin. Our acute intelligence is not intelligent enough, it's too arrogant for excellence, it's not diligent enough. We seek courage from purities negligence, and while we average out our leverage he watches in humour.
Would I be free from my passion and my pride?
If I stride in his word and my passion is his life.
But that's a lie, because I have my own.
And though I try to synchronise our minds, I know I'm out of rhythm and I can't hack this algorithm. The secret is well hidden like a man on a mission. And in addition, this division between faith and religion, makes me want to call for the start of church communism.
But I can't.
I can't do a single thing, because I have no high position. I have no experience. I have no power.
But God does...
And there's power in His blood.
YOU ARE READING
My Words
PoetryA lot of my poems will probably be triggering...but I guess that is kind of the point. What's the point of a poem if it doesn't trigger you. If I do, then I guess it has done its job to reach whoever needs to reach it. Everything here is completely...
