Poetry

My Heart Can’t Tell Time

Cassie Jean

Broken, my heart can’t tell time and emptiness stretches out before me like a deserted road.

Mundane landscapes and an insatiable thirst force me to question my original destination and how I became so lost and found in her presence.

Perfectly formed and heavenly sent with a purpose far greater than the ache in my chest will allow me to grasp.

Bring the storms, the next monsoon that will tear the shingles from my roof and perhaps I will forget for a moment until it is quiet again.

Let me face it all now from my place in the mud and grime, and then from absolute surrender I may rise again.

J. C. Beichner

My Heart’s Rest

My heart’s rest is found where water flows. 

Bones settle and thoughts swirl and languish in halftime.

Murky motivations lose their importance,

outnumbered and made ambiguous by the sheer volume and abundance of grace.

The mass exodus of anxieties, a new commitment of hope,       Moving_water

everything renewed in the baptism of what was, what may be and what I must let go.

All is released, and surrendered into the water’s roar.

Significance found in the silt; the flotsam and jetsam.

History relinquished in the realization that we are never alone.

Sweet gratitude and peace spill forth, and mercy is found where His waters flow.

J. C. Beichner