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Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

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redeemed

Theme Week: Fighting for Light – 3

Loving Arms

Sometimes the darkness gets its way
Sometimes I cannot find the day,
But when I most deeply had lost my way,
That was the time You found me.

Sometimes I feel the pain’s too deep
Sometimes it seems the climb’s too steep,
But I can fight the whole world, if You keep
Your loving arms around me.

– s. Clark

From Scratch

Break me down to my pieces
You’ll find what’s inside
Are minuscule molecules
Made up of pride
But they’re cinched up with sinews
Of hope in God’s hands
Belief in His purpose
And trust in His plans
I’m a puzzle all fractured
In sharpened ice shards
But He can reform me
And doesn’t mind scars
His hands are all callused
With my heart attached,
But He sews, and He sings,
And remakes me from scratch

– s. Clark

Trial of the Ages

Call the crying critics in,
Tell them to declare their lies.
Stand of strengthened soul within
Holds Him silent, burns His eyes.
“Blasphemy!”, what they accuse
With their pointing fingertips
Is the very thing they use,
Slipping from their lying lips.
Though the saintly sadists yell,
Nothing shouted stands. But still,
Who He is will not compel
Victim to assert His will.
Jesters juggle Him, the same,
Through their hoops of pain and pride,
And He claims a kingly name
Though His servants flee His side.
Soon His flesh will break and tear,
As He promised them it would,
And He calls not legions there
To defend Him, though He could.
He will hang upon His grave
And permit their taunts, that He
May no longer call us “slave”
And true Children let us be.
Call the crying critics in,
They will watch the Lord arise!
Stand of strengthened soul within
Names Him victor, burns His eyes.

– s. Clark

Broken, But Whole

I’d rather be vulnerable, raw, broken-down,
I’d rather be bent with my face to the ground,
Swallowing pain with the salt of my tears,
And watch as my precious-held pride disappears.
I’d rather be shattered, and battered upon
I’d rather be fractured, and learn to hold on
To the hand of the One who gives every good thing
I’d rather be dashed at the feet of my King.
I’d rather I crumble, be bruised all within,
And learn to be humble, to cling close to Him
I’d rather accept that I’m precious, but flawed,
And learn to survive on the breath of my God.

– s. Clark

One Day Soon

One day soon

The darkness will have had its time,
And in one fell and joyous tear,
Love’s hand will lift us from the grime.
The hurt that we know now will cease,
The scars and stains of earthen wear,
Will be at once replaced with peace.

The corporate failure of the fall,
The underlying fear and shame,
The deep injustice known to all,
Will slip away from soul and thought,
As each of us is called by name
To Him for whom we each were bought.

The ties of bitterness and grief
Will suddenly be cloven down,
And spirits soaring in relief
Will fly, all rising for the stars.
And each of us will bow to crown
The One who knows and cleansed our scars.

One day soon.

– s. Clark

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