Poetry

Listen

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Listen…

I’ve spoken too much without listening. A product and prisoner of western thought, I’ve focused too much on changing things, rather than being changed.

Even if I know the utter truth, it matters not, given that I am not pure and taint every word that proceeds from my lips. The love I want to share is held captive to my own imperfections.

And if by some divine intercession, I find an unfiltered moment of light, what then?

How do I survive this world so, in such a state of being?

How do I hold on, and yet let go, that I might become?

I Listen.

ADJ

Please visit www.towrestlewithdarkness.com to see other works or to purchase the book To Wrestle with Darkness.

Where would I go?

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Where would I go, that does not bring me back to you?

I look at you, and I am struck blind by what I cannot see. And yet, I seek.
I listen to you, and I am left deaf by what I cannot hear. And yet, I harken to your call.
I speak with you, and I am dumb for what I cannot say. And yet, I converse with angels.

You give everything and still I am empty.

Wanting.
The curse of every man. A void that this world cannot fill.

Longing.
For what I do not know. The impenetrable depths of this riddle called my life confound me.

Choosing.
Faith over Despair, I take another breath and live.

ADJ

Please visit: Amazon to purchase the book Sacrifices on sale now for $2.99, and to see other works by the author, Alan Jones.

Or visit my site, AlanDJones.com, just to hang out.

Adrift

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Although

My thoughts vacillate.
I am adrift in a sea of numbness as the world spins around me, to at other times possessing feelings of being broken beyond repair. Somehow I thought there would be more. The lie creeps into my head that I should be more, despite the repeated counting of my many blessings.
What currents have brought me here, to this place of desolation and formlessness?
Was I heartache from the first time I saw my own reflection? Or was it written before my birth that I would be so?
What manner of creature feels these things, much less expresses such longings back to its Creator? Held captive in a prison of my own design, shackled by expectations planted long ago, by parties indifferent to my wellbeing, I am left wondering.

Still

My solace remains.
I strongly suspect that my own imperfections make me the perfect tool for my purpose in this life. Being set adrift to contemplate my existence is every bit what should be.
I am a buoy at sea offering a point of reference to those still ashore. And while the waves push me to and fro, I know there is a tether tied unto me, which will not yield when called upon. This is my faith, and I shall live and die by it, be I on the waters or dry land. If you will step out unto the water to share this experience of uncertainty with me, you will get wet, there’s no denying that. But know too that your fear anchors you to a lone spot of land, while faith sets you free upon the sea of possibilities. If you will hold my hand, I will hold yours and together we will experience the highs and lows of each passing wave. We shall be what we were meant to be, imperfect creatures bound by a perfect love.

ADJ

Please visit www.towrestlewithdarkness.com to see other works or to purchase the book To Wrestle with Darkness.

Waves

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There’s a beautiful sadness to each crest
Rolling to an uncertain future
Each one a story untold

The largest waves
ultimately are rejected

While smaller ones
endure every undertow

On days like this, chaos & uncertainty make each moment all the more precious.

ADJ

Please visit: Amazon to purchase the book Sacrifices on sale now for $2.99, and to see other works by the author, Alan Jones.

Or visit my site, AlanDJones.com, just to hang out.

Flawed

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Please don’t hold me in high esteem, because I will fall.
If there be any air beneath me, it is courtsey of wings not my own.
In truth, I am flightless and tar souled, given to roam the heavens by grace alone.  Better instead to praise the One I serve, the giver of life and light.

ADJ

Please visit www.towrestlewithdarkness.com to see other works or to purchase the book To Wrestle with Darkness.

Page 198 of my life

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Page 198 of my life

…so I went home and spun
round and around until everything was
gone. Falling to the ground, twisting,
contorted, holding my breath. Only
in those brief moments was I free of
pain…

Strangling upon words which
would not come, I gasped for my
Salvation,
reclaiming my pain.
From eyes just open
a world in motion,
while I Lie here

still

ADJ

Please visit: Amazon to purchase the book Sacrifices on sale now for $2.99, and to see other works by the author, Alan Jones.

Or visit my site, AlanDJones.com, just to hang out.

A Dark Moment

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In my dark moments, which threaten to consume me, You maintain an ember within me that refuses to die. The darker the night, the brighter it appears, guiding me back to You.

In my dark moments, the weight of existing and the pain of loving those who, in their own moments, do not understand love as I do, grieves me so. My existence, as I wish to be, is incompatible with who they are today. And if I told them of my path, of my past, of my persistent torment, would they love me any more? If I gave myself totally away, would I still be in debt?

In my dark moments, Your light remains. And fueled by Your love, I walk on through this life and beyond. That is my testimony and my gift.

ADJ

Please visit www.towrestlewithdarkness.com to see other works or to purchase the book To Wrestle with Darkness.

Unbroken

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On today, Mother’s Day, it is humbling to think on all the mothers that have preceded each of us.

To think that our very existence here today is the result of a series of mothers who refused to give up.

From the young mother in Africa, who soldiered through during drought and famine.

To the mother bound in chains and carried across the ocean in the hull of a ship, the sick and dying all around her and yet she refused to give up.

From the young mother who decided to endure her master’s growing seed inside of her.

To my own mother who, in a segregated south, had the vision to see something better for her children.

From the hand of He that was, is and ever shall be, star begot star.

To each which brought life forth, the chain has remained unbroken. And I and each of you are the fruit of their labor.

I don’t know that my words could ever express the sincere love and appreciation I have for all the mothers and nurturers. I only ask that you not hold my limitations against the love I hold in my heart for each of you.

God Bless.

Unbroken

towrestlewithdarkness Leave a comment

On today, Mother’s Day, it is humbling to think on all the mothers that have preceded each of us.

To think that our very existence here today is the result of a series of mothers who refused to give up.

From the young mother in Africa, who soldiered through during drought and famine.

To the mother bound in chains and carried across the ocean in the hull of a ship, the sick and dying all around her and yet she refused to give up.

From the young mother who decided to endure her master’s growing seed inside of her.

To my own mother who, in a segregated south, had the vision to see something better for her children.

From the hand of He that was, is and ever shall be, star begot star.

To each which brought life forth, the chain has remained unbroken. And I and each of you are the fruit of their labor.

I don’t know that my words could ever express the sincere love and appreciation I have for all the mothers and nurturers. I only ask that you not hold my limitations against the love I hold in my heart for each of you.

God Bless.

Thoughts on writing and other means of sharing

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Surely it is questionable how one can constantly and persistently open one’s veins allowing one’s life to splatter across the page, especially when each encounter leaves the writer drained and a little dimmer.

What is this compulsion to examine one’s own soul, the drive to share lessons learned from each encounter, real or imagined? Why this thirst for something better, even when seemingly, there is no satisfaction within reach in this life?

…Except for this hope, glimpsed in the corner of the eye like a wayward lightning bug appearing in the darkest halls of our lives; leading us further into the darkness. Is each uncertain step further into the vapors faith, foolishness, or both? But then again, if we could understand it all, if we could see it all, would it be faith at all? And maybe, just maybe, in our brighter moments, might we be lighthouses for one another in this journey we all share? For when we shine in the darkness, it has no answer and the substance of our hope is revealed.