Monday, July 24, 2006

The more things change...

I know you've heard that truism. Haven't you? "The more things change, the more they stay the same..." Comforting if you believe one of those things that doesn't change is God, and His Love...and His Control over everything. Downright depressing if you don't.

The first post I ever made on a blog (xanga) featured this poem. I wrote it after a conversation with a friend, meant less for me than for their encouragement. After a phone call last night, its words came back to me. Now it's for me, and the one for whose comfort it was written stands in quite a different place. Quite a different place. Ironic, really. Yet the words are true...and so they whisper comfort... Y'all can tell me what you think.

Bruised By the Eagle’s Grip
~Exodus 19:4 "...How I carried you [Israel] on eagle's wings and brought you to Myself..." (this after He took them through the Sea, and then the desert!)

The wild-rolled eye-
A wind-ripped cry-
The talons curl around the prey
The iron-grip seals and draws away
Helpless, her prey to die.

A desperate fight
Ensuing night
And still beat wings of certain doom.
The flower cut off at the bloom,
No more to know the light.

And the sun glows hot and brighter still-
Intense and steady heat!
And the light, it burns- it blinds, it hurts
Yet- up!- there’s no relief.

Surrender at last-
Trapped sure, held fast-
The prey goes limp, hopeless, resigned;
Return to Home gone from its mind
Exiled from that dear past.

Suddenly, the drop!
Plunging towards rocks-
Again the terror-rigid scream!
But wait! Salvation is no dream:
The nest is where it stops.

The arid ground unwinds below
Consumed by storm and fire
Yet I lie safe, above it all,
Snatched from the warring mire.

Not here to die,
But taught to fly!
Nourished, and fed, and loved.
Now peering from the crags above
Beginning to learn why.

Blood, pain, and tears
Sharp anguished fears…
How strange this path to rest!
The helpless victim now more blest
Than Earth’s most wise of seers.

And I’ve been bruised by the Eagle’s grip,
Then healed by those same Hands.
Dragged steadily, relentlessly-
Or carried?- Through harsh lands.

αμηυ
~CMT, May 12, 2004

"Every blessing You pour out I'll
Turn back to praise.
And when the darkness closes in, Lord-
Still I will say:
"Blessed be the Name of the Lord!
Blessed be Your Name!
Blessed be the Name of the Lord--
Blessed be Your glorious Name."

2 comments:

szrama said...

A fine poem, Ms. Thompson.. and that same song was on my mind last night as I lay down. I have it written in a notebook to prove it! ^_^

Ashley Brennan said...

Hey, Christina--

I hope you're doing well. I prayed for you today, that the Lord would hem you in from all sides. I'd be excited to hear from you! I love you. :)