Poems of Doubtful Hope

Who am I on this day, God? A disciple waiting in fear? A face in the crowd, completely unaware Of what powerful things you are waiting to do? Part of me wishes I was drunk at nine in the morning. Maybe that would numb the fear of worrying I might never feel your spirit move again. I want to move in you, God, But I'm too weak. Too weak to do it all alone, Too weak to do it even when I ask for help. I need a Pentecost moment to empower me. Can your spirit come rushing into my life again? I have been singing the song of lament for endless years; Teach me a new song today. A song of power, a song of praise, A song full of hope and joy. Draw me out of this dreary upper room And reignite my smoldering soul.

I've come to strike the rock. I know that's not what you asked for. I know that's not what you commanded. You want me to speak to the rock. Beg the rock for the indulgence of a trickled stream. Ask politely, seek meekly, and don't get upset When I still find myself thirsty in the desert. But I've come to strike the rock. I don't care if striking the rock excludes me. I'll bear the sins of a broken command. Bar me from the promise. Turn your anger and your wrath on me. Curse me if that's what it takes to prove you're real: Weigh me down with the burdens of my iniquity. But I can't keep waiting for the water to flow on its own. I've been begging for such a long time. I'm dying of thirst when the water is right here! I've come to strike the rock. So, please...show me where the rock is. Help me find the source of water. Or else, bury me with the other wanderers. One more lost soul unable to limp his way To the spout where the glory allege...

I find myself at a loss for words. The meter is gone. Rhythms and rhymes abandoned me. Poetic similies are DOA. Energy wasted trying to impress... Who exactly? The people who read my clever poems And enjoy the witty word play? God? Myself? Anyone who might care? What if no one cares? What if these verses are screaming into the void, Cold and unsympathetic, And any ears they might find are deaf or dead? Would it be better for God to be gone Instead of disinterested in my plight? Does it matter either way?