Crackling Candle

memories like scenes on replay.

it’s like watching another life — but wait — its mine.

small instances of feelings and moments. some with a smile but most of darkness.

playing through my mind like scenes on replay.

sounds and smells remind me who and where I once was. all of who I am but nothing at all.

there she is — the girl with no hope. stuck in motion — wrestling, moving, breaking, choking — never. ending. constant. commotion.

seen but not heard. no offering to satisfy — a deep place of despair rotting away inside.
there he is outside my window — begging to come in.

only in this poem — this time — he is not he but a metaphor for the endless
days — within —
of memories playing through my mind like scenes on replay — shoved inside something like a personal envelope…

this little envelope made it’s way to a sovereign being —
and at once the man in the window is my King.

looking in from His throne on high — yet beside me like there was no sky — holding Him back — nothing can hold Him back from His rescue. He will come and He will find you.

seek and ye shall be found. knock and that door shall open.

the candle crackles at my desk on 13th street in Columbus Ohio. it’s 8:30 in the morning and there’s snow on the ground. I think I prayed to Jesus for the first time just now.

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