sensical straights, a poem

so I thought I wanted to control every piece,

to put in order and stuff into sensical straights

all the ways my life colors outside the lines

I thought I could force my body to stretch so far

and hold so fast that nothing is left behind,

not even the smallest hope or dream outside my reach

I thought that this holding together would be, well, the life of me

I thought if I held everything together I would stay in tact too.

...because a great, monstrous fear is to unravel

until only a heaping mess of life-yarn remains

now, if I could put a lasso around what most confuses me

and all the ways my randomness leaves disasters

of colors and shapes and people stranded

if I could somehow capture this crazy, inner, picasso-sized mess

and train it, conform it, teach it, mold and shape it...

until finally it becomes standard and organized and disciplined

then my guilt might not have such a strong voice

to guide and scream and gnaw and attack and whisper

at all the things I haven't done or all the ways I've failed

but, now I see my thoughts are incomplete

can I hope for perfection by imperfect means?

does another failure and more guilt await

after this hopeful process of control?

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inspired by chapters 10/11 of Reason for God by Timothy Keller

thoughts welcome!

write your own poem this month in the spirit of April=poetry month!

as always,

let LOVE FLY like cRaZY