land of milk and honey
I keep sitting down to write something;
something of the old me,
I want it to reassure me that I still have wisdom
That I am still in love with my Saviour;
still hold His promises in my heart;
still full of the desire to believe;
I want to hear my spirit still singing with His.
but when I do,
I feel awkward
my words disjointed and staggered
my mind blocked
words are sporadically spat onto the page
from a vocabulary that has to be manipulated
honesty has always been the honey to my writing
and now, sentences are so bitter
my mind has always been as easy to pour onto paper as milk into tea
and now, paragraphs are slow, the lines lumpy
so maybe the land i am in..
isn’t of milk and isn’t of honey
is that dust scratching my throat?
and sand flooding my lungs?
maybe honesty has a new taste
yes.
honesty has a new taste.
i’d like to breathe again
so if God can handle my honesty,
maybe I can spit some of it out.
