Poem: Laurels

I am a turtle 
God covers my shell
No one else can hold me so well
No one else perceives me so perfectly 
He knows me more than I know myself 

He sees through what I’m blind to
what I subconsciously hide 
when my frail smile is a lie
when I’m crumbling inside
but I say, “I’m fine,”
while internally fumbling and crying
I feel so lonely, tired, spent
pierced with betrayals
shallow friendships have ended 
like invisible ink sunsets faded 
my brief daze of youth 
is unrecognizably aged
to middle aged mediocrity 

I wish I could rest 
sleep nest like a mourning dove
in the palms of God’s graceful hands
slumber deeply like a baby lamb
I’d dream of God’s lush forests
Scented deeply with green growing
laureled gardens breathing upwards 
like redwood castles climbing 
golden velvet blooms chiming  thousand petalled roses sighing opening upwards
fragrance soothing like crystal bells
butterflies swirling mid air
lovely landing like propellered
paper airplane cherry blossoms

Why does God love us so well?
Why are we still precious to Him
with our dirty hands
caked with the grief of sin
our tear stained faces
heavy with regrets
wrong turns to dead ends
falling into a spell
a witches’ glistening well
full of rotting stars
potentials stolen
recycled as trash

Rose colored glasses drunken
fool of blind sight
lured by a glamorous false light
kingdom of wretched promise rings
ego tripping dive
from dizzying heights
to chasms of dark disappearing
it’s a miracle you’re still alive
God secretly helped you to survive
He lends His golden rope of hope
reclaims those that can hear
His peaceful voice and come near
to His true shepherd’s calling
beam brightly from deep despair
leave the nightmare
of pitch black nothingness
crushed but mended
His recovered beloved children

Dreamtime contains mysterious clues
forwards and backwards
escaping the backrooms
uncovers the hypnotic ruse
I try to retrace patterns 
in this confounding maze
this Lost and Found crainial puzzle
ten thousand rainswept steps
of obstacles and treasures kept
so much beauty windswept
to carry and bury and mourn 
so much precious wastedness
within is a hidden blessing 
to forgive wrongdoing and reconsider
God mends our wartorn scars
as beauty mark laurels
hardwon pearls and diamonds