The Lord has given you something to say.
That is why He made you—
You and not someone else.
So come to your room. Sit at your desk.
Address the page,
And as you do,
Do not let the censoring voice silence you.
Speak, write of delight; tell your story.
Strain your eyes; fix your mind;
Open your heart to the Glory
That fills everything.
Hear the music
OR if the page is blank,
And fear follows hard, and you run
Into the cave, dingy and dank,
Stretch out your hand
And with your finger and thumb
Find the gold thread
Listen, He has not left you for dead.
Pour out the sadness, confess the badness
Full and free. Let it go. Shrieve.
And receive the blessing
Tell the truth. That is all you can do.
And wait. Wait again on the hunger
Or wonder to open the door,
To show you there’s more.
Then come to the room,
Sit at your desk,
Take up your pen,
And say it.
© Randall Edwards 2021