Notebook flipped open to an empty page

Pencil in hand, eraser in range

A mess of ideas desperately waiting to be written

But yet I think to myself, "Where is my inspiration?!"

Empty, like a useless vessel, I feel

If I was really blessed with such an incredible gift

Why am I not pouring it out to the world?

Oh what a God-given gift I have blessed with!

The gift to design a world of my own

The gift to sing without a voice

The gift to fly on the wings of the wind

all the same in one sense
all are saints in progress

clad in heavy weight of sinners garb
too busy to stop and see their scars

some may hide and turn away
but we are running the same race

different ways
different pace
 
and yet He loves brokenhearted
run down, weary and afraid

and yet He raises all the lowly
cold, homeless, and unworthy

makes us shine through our tears
breathes His beauty into our fears

pulls us up so we can stand

**An excerpt from a may-soon-to-be-novel that lives in my mind, and has for some time.**

**Before I start I want to ask that you please, please don't make your comments into a debate. Just keep it friendly and respectful. Etc.**

In regular school, this feeling I'm having right now was very familiar. Sweating palms, pounding heartbeat, a kind of rush in the ears that after a few minutes I realize is the sound of my own heavy breathing. This happens whenever I am a combination of scared and impassioned, when I find that I must raise my hand and say, No, this is wrong! And then, class would end and I would turn to writing as my outlet.

Rest in peace, little one

Rest in peace

Your troubles are over, little one

Rest in peace

You looked death in the face

Little one

And did not flinch

Pain

Oh, the pain you endured

All because of your love,

Little one

Be not afraid

They talk of justice, little one

They talk of peace

But who, little one, noticed

When you suffered?

Pray, little one

You are safe now

(I had to re-post this as poetry, instead of fiction)

Here is a little more randomness--fruit of my writing assignments for class. For this one, I had to take line from a poem I'd already written and write a new poem with it, and then take a line from the new one and do it again...

I wait like an almond blossom
wavering in the breeze
I watch like the almond blossom
as people pass beneath

I drift like the almond blossom
among the grey-barked trees
I may only watch and listen
but I may never speak

I want to correct, I want to be
but instead where the wind blows
the branch will lean
I wish to sing but no one knows 

catch me, the almond blossom, falling

A thousand rains may come and go
a thousand storms may shake me
a thousand whispers will I know

“More Than I Can Imagine”

I love the one who has always existed.

The one who I can always rely upon.

The one who never breaks a promise.

The one who I know, no matter what I do,

He will always love me more than I can imagine.

I doubted, but now I know

That makes you stronger.

In this life, I wonder what my prupose is.

But as I look in the sky, my worries fade

And I know he there for me.

When fear swirles around me,

*I was thinking about some of the characters in my new novel, when this one jumped out at me. A spy for someone evil, and yet he has a good heart and does something wonderful and self-sacrificing at the end. I wondered about why he was like that... and I guess this is my answer.*



Hush, hush little baby boy
your mama is gone, but your papa's nearby
he rocks you to sleep and sings a lullaby
hush, hush little baby boy

Bright-eyed boy, growing,
and watching him draw
the lines of the mountains that one time we saw