I tread water, yet I have no control, I am washed in these waves that battle for my soul.
My situation is tenuous, perhaps even dire, I gasp for air, but I am growing tired.
Been in these waters for far too long, got used to going under, thinking maybe it made me strong.
But I have been weak, I became what I am not, lost myself in the waters forgetting why I ever fought.
So it is not enough now to simply come up for air, I can tread no longer for the waves have weight I must not bear.
I take a deep breath, I steel my nerves, I set my sights towards land and choose whom I will serve.
I reach solid ground, yet the waters still lap at my skin, I know it’s not enough, so I move further in.
In and away, away from the waves, and now looking back, they seem so much more like a grave.
I lived in death pretending it could sustain; now I grasp at life as I shed my pain.
Tears flow down as reality hits, I see solid rock, and this is where I sit.
I can still see the waves, so I look to the sky; it begins to rain, and once again, I am no longer dry.
Yet this rain is different than the waves that would be my tomb, I feel peace and warmth, I am completely consumed.
This time though, instead of grasping for survival; I sit on this rock ready for revival.
I am revived fully, washed in this rain, the waves no longer in sight, the fog clears my brain.
On a solid foundation, I see clearly; I have all that I need, and it is on this rock I am finally freed.
Freedom, a final thought for this piece, I am free, and yet I still release.
I release my desperate desire for control, I give it up freely, I give God my soul.
Yes, all along God was the rock, the waves my flesh, and so I take stock.
I take inventory now of the things I have learned, I let go of idols and allow a clean heart to yearn.
I yearn now for the One it always should have been, the Lord my God has freed me from my sin.
Addiction
Words and Walls
You say words can’t pierce through this wall? But what if I write words worthy of making Jericho fall?
Words divined by inspiration from the heavens, words that are overflowing with detailed expression.
I express the feelings that have lain deep and dormant down in my soul, I set them free rather than take control.
So, these are the words that flow from my heart to page, I write them so that I may set the stage.
I cast the parts and design the show, all for a vision of something that can grow.
The curtains come up, and the walls come down all is revealed to an audience that doesn’t make a sound.
On the soundless stage, something new takes place.
Amidst the rubble and dust, the protagonist plays their part, a performer of the heart.
The heart grows stronger and knows what it wants, and so these words can be more blunt.
Blunt and sudden with a booming bellowing voice, the show has started, and so the heart can make a choice.
Do words have the potential to pierce through walls and veils? Or is this another day that words could not prevail?
In one final petition I ask that the performer play their part well. With the world a stage, the heart can certainly leave its shell.
Vulnerability
It’s hard for most to leave themselves vulnerable, to let their weakness be known. For me however, it is much harder for me to build up a wall. I wish deeply to trust others, to help them in their struggles. I certainly can’t help others if I myself pretend to be fine, how then can I expect others to be honest with me? I’ve often been weakened by the attacks waged by my own mind, and I’ve had to seek help in dealing with that. My truest help comes from God, but I owe allot to the friends who have stood by my side and my family who has constantly lifted me back up. I have not truly fallen yet, I will not do so today, and I certainly will not fall to my sorrows in the future. I don’t mean to say that I will never cry or that I will never need help, what I am saying is that I will make it through, and my testimony will be all the better for it. For all these reasons I say fine, know that I cry, know that I am willing as a grown man to let my mother hold me when I’m to weak on my own, know that I have flaws, but also know this, in my weakness my God is strong. Nothing will have a hold on me for my life already belongs to God. I have found a consistent joyous reminder in my life that no matter what I face I can always trust in my God. Alone I am nothing, with God I am the downfall of the entire kingdom of hell. I claim my life for God today and every day, let life breathe into these dry bones and let my vulnerability be my Gods strength.
Last Night
Last night I crawled in bed with my mom and cried into her arms. Yes, you heard correctly, a 20 year old man crawled in bed with his mother and cried because he was afraid. Understand me however that these were not your every day fears, no these were not the nightmares I had as a child, these fears are all too real. Last night I was afraid of my own mind, that it would take my life, I was afraid that I was all alone, that I was empty inside, that I would never amount to anything, that nobody could love me, care for me, I was afraid that I would never see happiness again. The fear I faced last night, the thing that made me cry, I could see my demons clawing at my soul wanting me to die, but those demons are not and never will be in control. Yes, a 20 year old man needed his mommy to protect him, because he could not protect himself. This grown man needed to be reminded that God held his life in His hands, that people cared, that people loved him, he needed to know why he was alive. The love of a mother, so pure, so wonderful a thing that God gave us. Last night I needed my mother and she was there. No matter the age I’m always her baby and somehow that’s comfort enough to know I should be alive. Last night my mother was an angel that held me in her arms, if that’s not God answering my prayer that I matter and am loved then I don’t know what is. I asked for something, and He could see in my heart it needed to be something I could physically feel and see this time. God answered my prayer 20 years before I prayed it by giving me my mom. Last night, I was a baby, and that’s okay, I wasn’t a baby because I cried, I was a baby because to my mom that’s what I am, I am her baby, and I think knowing that is one of the most precious gifts I could ever receive. So when you’re in a dark place, whether you are 12, 20, 34, or whatever age you may be, find yourself someone like my mom, someone who never fails to remind you that they care, and that they love you with all their heart.
So, here is to all the moms, dads, grandparents, siblings, friends, and whoever else is always there when someone they love is in need. Most importantly here is to my mom, truly the most precious woman in my life, without her I am nothing, without her I’d probably already be dead, but with her I can take on the world.
Never be afraid to let everything go, and crawl in bed with your mom, sometimes it is exactly what you need, thank you mom, I love you.
My Deepest Fear
I’m a blunt person, I generally believe in absolute honesty and feel that i have nothing worth hiding. We are all humans, we all have our problems and flaws. No matter what we face as people each day there is nothing new under the sun, I feel that there’s no point in me keeping quiet of something I struggle with because if I do then how will i ever receive an opportunity to help others in the same boat. Now that my introductory rambling on is finished with I can arrive at the true topic of discussion, my deepest fear. A few weeks or so back a friend asked me what my deepest fear was, as to others who have asked before I answered in the same manor, bluntly and honestly, my deepest fear is that one day my depression will win and I will simply end my own life. Do not, however take this statement the wrong way I am not nor have I ever been truly suicidal. I do have a fear though that my depression is stronger that what it lets off and that one day it will give it all it has to take me. Fears are often irrational and I don’t believe this one is an exception, I don’t believe I would ever reach that point nor do I believe that even at my darkest times I would be able to ignore the presence of God in my life or the consequences that my following actions could have on my eternity. My fear is irrational and ironically keeps me strong for my fear does not always exist but instead only exists when I am lost within the dark confines of my own mind. My fear of losing to my depression only appears when a battle arises, and when that fear arises I fight even harder. Death will not take my body until the Lord calls me Himself to everlasting life. It may be hard and at time feel lonely and hopeless but I have work to do and it starts by defeating my deepest fear every time it shows its face. There is hope and there is light that will always exist, Jesus Christ will guide my sword.
How I Fight My Battles
I need to write like i need to breathe, it is oxygen to my lungs when my depression acts as the deep vacuum of space. My writing whether it be poetry or my thoughts on matters of life makes sense to me things about myself i didn’t even understand before. My poetry often allots me the words to describe that which I did not know how to explain. The emotions of turmoil, joy, helplessness, and pure happiness all of these things fight with each other to be the subject of my thoughts. Often times in my poems one can even see the battle as it is waged when my poem starts depressing and leads to joy in the end. I firmly believe every tunnel has light at the end my writing is a way of forcing myself to the end of that tunnel. When one feels depression its strange, it grips a hold of you and wraps you up nice and warm, depression as I’ve stated before always feels familiar. The reason I bring up the familiarity of depression is this, when one gets comfortable with depression it looks less threatening, its tempting to let it hold you in it’s chilling grasp, to let it lead you into the deepest pits of despair. My writing forces a knife down on the wire that ties me to sadness and reminds me immediately of Gods love for me. My way of escaping the pain is to write but there are many other ways, find whatever allows you to hear the voice of God, whatever your blessed with, whatever you’re talented at, that is where you will find your reprieve. The darkness cannot consume you if you radiate with light, so stay passionate my friends, and let the Holy Spirit flow through you like blood through your veins, depression is a war that can be won.
Addiction’s True Face
Addiction is a thief that creeps in the night, it steals your soul and instills you with fright.
Addiction is a war that never will end every single battle you start the fight again.
Addiction steals your children, addiction steals your life, no matter the addiction it controls you… it’s leash is on tight.
Addiction will not let go no matter what you do addiction holds on forever not just a day or two.
So, i advise you my friends please never give in to anything addictive or it may just grab you until the end.
I have lost my battle one hundred times over but the war still wages on, a war that with the right weapons actually can be won.
Addiction may grip your throat and refuse to let go but I tell you I serve a God who’s sword will slice through that demons control.
Addiction will not have me, no not today, the fight may come back tomorrow but I will try to stay strong; I will keep on fighting though the war may be long.
Nobody wishes to talk of addictions pains and how it clings, for everyone has felt addictions fatal sting.
I remind you still that there certainly is hope, scripture will guide you, and prayer will help you cope.
Tales of Dylan 