A Crucible of Children


Screaming fire.

Flames flickering in every direction,

Running wildly in every direction.

Stamp one out and two more come up,

Embers arguing until a wind stirs them up.

I wave my arms to reign them in,

To gather them in.

They scatter,

Chicks fleeing my herding,

Half going the way I want,

Half the other.

Catch the fleeing ones and hold them.

Gentler than gentle,

Coax them the other way,

Fire searing me in the face

All the way.

I am on fire,

A farmer burning in the fields of harvest,

Failure and fortune,

Folly and freedom,

Furious frustration burning me down as love draws me on.




I am dying from His joy, and I fear there will be nothing left.

(I wrote this poem about five days into my one-week mission trip to New York, at the end of my ropes emotionally and driven to intense prayer and a deeper reliance on Jesus. This is what came out after one night of prayer, and it seems to be the point where the floodgates of poetry writing were opened.)


One thought on “A Crucible of Children

  1. Pingback: My Favorite Things | What Has Jesus Done?

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