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Empty Hymns

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callerofcrows

Published: Jul 29, 2012

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Literature Text

How cold the sky
that strikes me blind--
I look into the grey
and it devours me.
If I could wrench heaven
from behind that concrete palisade,
would it fall too fast
and crush me?

I prayed for rain;
imagining they're pieces of grace,
torn from the hem of God.
I'd give my soul to drown in them,
to open my lungs and drown in them.
O Lord, flood me!

Where is my faith,
that I call to God for such an end?
My hope is washed away,
leaves on a river,
bleached of color.

Tear from my throat
this wordless despair,
cast it down from me,
wrest it from my chest--
it throttles my conviction.

For all the dreams I've had,
they rend my waking mind.
And for all my aspirations,
I am nothing.

Dear Shadow

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For reasons that will be forever unbeknownst to me, I was hit by this overwhelming sense of grief and dispair when I woke up. I wrote down this poem as it came to me.

It should be sung, almost like a chant or a psalm, and in that form it seems to be the most powerful.

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Comments38

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Blacksand459

Dec 4, 2012

Gorgeous work as always, Lizzie!
I'm sorry you felt that way, but as I write this, I must say your piece reminded me of the precious gift we've been given: the ability and desire to pour our hearts onto the page, distilling our emotions and thoughts, a syllabic catharsis if you will.

This was a wonderful piece. As others commented before me, I was struck by the hem-of-God reference. It immediately made me think of the woman who reached out her hand in faith, touching His garment, to connect with His power.

"My hope is washed away,
leaves on a river,
bleached of color. " Exactly. Well said. Been there many times.

Have a great day!

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