A poem about Kenya and about heaven...it's a little odd how I feel similarly about both.
How do I explain the feeling of burning alive?
What makes you angry makes me enraged. What makes you sad makes me weep.
I would invite you into this world but I don't think you would walk in it.
You would get tired, you would run away.
Who will stay and fight not for us but for them?
The kids with no names, empty stares. Zombies.
What can I do with the burning? Will it burn with no end?
I walk from the fire but the beautiful scars are always there.
I never see the same, I always walk with a limp, and I love it.
So I ask when I can burn again, when can the fire consume all of me:
I hear wait.
I wait but it's all on fire and the overwhelming pain beckons me.
This is probably why something so real as a relationship with Jesus can be so confusing...just a real thought in the midst of reading something more than a book...