Creation to the Cross

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