A Sunday Morning Prayer

Hear me quickly, Lord
for my mind soon wanders to other things
    I am more familiar with
        and more concerned about
            than I am with you.

Words will not do, Lord.
Listen to my tears,
    for I have lost much
        and fear more.
Listen to my sweat,
    for I wake at night,
        overwhelmed by darkness and strange dreams.
Listen to my sighs,
    for my longing surges like the sea--
    urgent, mysterious, beckoning.
Listen to my growling gut,
    for I hunger for bread and intimacy.
Listen to my curses,
    for I am angry at the way the world
    comes down on me sometimes
        and I sometimes on it.
Listen to my crackling knuckles,
    for I hold very tightly to myself
        and anxiously squeeze myself
            into others' expectations
                and them into mine,
        and then shake my fists at you
            for disappointing me.

Listen to my footfalls,
    for I stumble to bring good tidings to someone.
Listen to my groans,
    for I ache towards healing.
Listen to my worried weariness,
    for my work matters much to me
    and needs help.
Listen to my tension,
    for I ache toward accepting who I am
        and who I cannot be.
Listen to my hunched back,
    For sometimes I can't bear
        the needs and demands of the world anymore
            and want to put it down,
                give it back to you.

Listen to my laughter,
    for there are friends
        and mercy
            and something urges me to thank.
Listen to my humming,
    for sometimes I catch all unaware
        the rhythms of creation
    and then music without words
                rises in me to meet it,
            and there is the joy of romping children
                and dancing angels.

Listen to my blinking eyes,
    for at certain moments
    when sunlight strikes just right,
    or stars pierce the darkness just enough,
    or clouds roll around just so,
    or snow kisses the world into quietness,
everything is suddenly transparent...
and something in me is pure enough
    for an instant
to see your kingdom in a glance,
and so to praise you in a gasp--
    quick,
        then gone,
            but it is enough.

Listen to me quickly, Lord.

--Ted Loder, "Guerrillas of Grace"

Picture 28: the track

pessimism.
optimism.

so many ambitions.
so many lost dreams and opportunities.

turns that lead to dead ends.
promises that were never kept.

i never meant it to end up this way.
i thought i'd just try something new for a while.

hope long gone.
a fear to hope again.

innocence.
fear.
regret.
resignation.
apathy.
anger.
nothingness.

darkness and light
reality and denial

...one day
...one day
...one day
...one day i'll stop saying one day.

He'll Probably keep going

This is a poem that was written by a Fuller student about the tragedy of the realities of human trafficking after watching the documentary “Call + Response” Please read this words below:
-------------------------------------------------

This poem was inspired by the documentary, "Call and Response." As an artist I understand that my gift is for the sake of the freedom of others. While I stand frustrated at the reality that I may not be there to PHYSICALLY free those who are oppressed, I remain thankful that I may set free the mind and spirit of the person who does. Cornel West exclaims that "justice is what love looks like in public", may this poem be but a small expression to the millions who have yet to see love in this form or in any form. May this poem serve as a small way of me saying, I see you, and I wish to love you publicly, and do you justice.

He’ll Probably keep going
By Mark Anthony Chase

She was a slave to his freedom
As he penetrated her purity
Virtually oblivous to the bleeding
And somehow her screaming
Gets lost in translation
And sounds something like, "touch me baby",
But how could he touch her she's just a baby
As tears touch testosterone
Innonence Ignites Erections
There's Something Sadistically Sinful
At this intersection
Where Powerful Meets Powerless
And More or less showers it with indifference,
The Bodies are so close but the souls remain distant-
See, if he could see
More than Flesh
More than Lips
More than under Developed Breasts,
And Could actually see the pain as it pumps beneath her chest...................
He would probably Keep Going, Knowing
That for his moment spent in the erotic
She was spiraling towards the irreconcilably chaotic
He would probably keep going, Knowing
That no language could articulate the pain that her womb felt
which literally had no room left to soften the atrocity
He would probaly keep going, knowing,
That no God, No Lord, No Ancestor Nor Ancient Spirit would approve,
of his desire to take and her inablity to choose,
He would probably keep going, Knowing,
That she would never be the same
And that HE, might forever BE, etched on the canvas of her MEMORY
as a permanent stain would he refrain ??? No he would remain
And probably keep going, Pushing and Sighing
Perfecting his domination
Losing Himself inside the vulnerablity of her childhood yes he would,
Probably Keep Going, Thrusting and Heaving
Her into a place of disbelieving
where dreams don't come true skies aren't blue and little girls don't get to dress up as princesses
but his consicience isn't as sensitive as the skin on his penis is so he keeps going,
knowing, that when it's over for him
it's just beginning for her
Begnning to hurt
The water, in her eyes, is beginning to blurr
Hatred, Despair, is beginning to stir
It's beginning again for her as he
is beginning to leave
and is replaced by another indifferent face and he.......
Probably won't stop either....
But neither will I
And rest assured one day our destinies will collide
Where inspiration and action are alive
Where the passion of the people reside
And one day he'll begin
And someone will take her side,
And He'll probably try to run,
But he'll have nowhere to hide,

And inside that little girls heart
Is a dream that just came true, a sky that still is blue,
And someone to free her and tell her........ she really is a princess

Wandering

Sometimes I don't feel like I'm the person I should be.

Sometimes my mistakes scream so much louder than the rest of my life.

Sometimes I stop for a moment of rest, but come to realize that to continue the journey in any direction is too difficult.

Sometimes it would be easier to go through life without thinking.

When these words come from my mouth, you may feel like telling me everything is fine, you may want to point out the path I should take

Well, thanks, but I'm lost,

Wandering with me is all you need to do.

--J.Marrs

Lost

Oh how my emotions and thoughts are tangled within me

Everyday brings another turn in the road I didn't expect

I find even myself hard to understand and read let alone others

Nothing is simple

Enjoy the journey I tell myself

But I find myself frightened when I can't see 2ft. in front of me

I know a lot ABOUT you

But I want to KNOW you

I want to simply dwell in your presence

Pursue me, capture me, save me

Take hold of my wandering heart

It longs for freedom

...but I'm lost.

it hurts...

sometimes it's just easier to close my eyes
to shut my heart
to ignore the reality of it all

the pain surges deeper and deeper
there seems to be no way to stop it
no cure no remedy

i want to run away but something keeps me here
i don't know what much i can do
but my heart leads me on

...until the last lock breaks

Open My Heart

Father open, open up my heart
This tender part of me – I don’t think can stand another break
But Father, open, open up my heart
Bring some people in that can help me grow again

If pain is a part of this, I just might quit, it might be too hard
That will just enforce my self-reliance upon you.
I don’t need anyone else to help me though

The times that I’ve been wounded are the times I’ve trusted most
I don’t know what you think you were teaching me
I only drew in further to my cocoon

It’s just a lot easier to give love than to receive it
Cause then I get to be the stronger one.
I open up someone else’s heart and learn to listen well
There’s much less chance of hurting if my mouth just stays shut

Father open, open up my heart
I beg you to come in and restore this flesh again
So Father, open, open up my heart
Abuse it if it helps – just know I might walk away again

Weep with Me

a poem by kristin keen
about nepal and india's sexually exploited girls
i could not have put it into words that more beautifully expressed what my heart feels.

"WEEP WITH ME"

come and see, LORD.
come and weep with me.

come and see their faces
painted with cheap make-up.
see the tenderness in their worn-out eyes.

weep with me
over torn flesh
and broken hearts.

weep with me, Jesus
over girls trapped by fear.

weep with me for the mothers
who have lost their daughters.

weep with me over your princesses
who are treated like whores.

weep with me
so that i know You are with them.

weep with me
so that i know their suffering isn't forgotten.

weep with me
because when You weep, it gives me hope.

Your tears bring the safe places
where the suffering of the world can reside.

Your tears give me and the girls a place to put
our doubt,
our rage,
our isolation,
our fears.

come and see, Jesus.
come and weep with me.