Creation to the Cross
By: Olive Anderson
Days when the sum of my mistakes combine
Uninvited memories swarm the hills
The hills of a mind that never ceases
The dreadful mistakes I’ve placed on others
Words, actions with an eternal swarming
I want to take it all back, everything
It sits with permanent ink on my walls
As if it will never be clear again
What if I’m the reason for the great fall
All of the painted skies show of your Grace
Days when I can\'t seem to do a thing right
Friendships that seem to sift through my fingers
Conversations that leave me feeling blank
Hobbies that sit and wait to be pursued
Emotions that I will not ever face
Words wished to share but not one seems to care
Opportunities given to others
Rejection from papers I hold on to
A life that I’ve never been present for
All of the painted skies show of your Grace
Days I sit in the bitterness of grief
An immovable, absent stung presence
Anonymity of all her being
Hours wasted pondering what she is
Years of growing without the one I need
Nights held by a Mother who took her place
Creation of a book meant for her eyes
Poems so restless to be deleted
Wasted energy put into a ghost
All of the painted skies show of your Grace
Days the sun sits in perfect ambition
Casting light on all the loves of my world
Showing the beauty of the life ahead
Listening to birds of his creation
Soaking in the presentness of the wind
Reading a good Psalm that sits close to home
Pacing the day as if it has no end
Sharing moments with all those who surround
Feeling the breath of air as my legs move
All of the painted skies show of your Grace