Through the Cracks

 Through the Cracks


The artillery has ceased its firing

and the smoke is thinning out.

The  eyes, squeezed shut so tightly,

I open, and quietly look about.

 

I force myself to face this devastation

but it takes all my remaining will

to look out upon the  battlefield around me

where things are suddenly  deathly still

 
 I find my heart grieving loudly  

as I see the bodies of fallen brothers.

I feel the boiling heat of vengeance

and I spit my wrath  upon the others.

 

 I can't tell who won or lost here.

I suppose, it doesn't really matter.

Amongst the debris on either side

all sense of victory is shattered.
 

  I feel the stinging pain within my chest

and look down to see that I ‘ve been hit.

I have taken on more than one bullet from life

but this time it might be it.

 

There is a crack in my protective armour now

a large, pathetic,  gaping hole

I bow my head ... a shameful victim,

Not worthy of my role.

 

 My heavy  personalized sense of self

that protected me for so long,

has failed to keep me going;

it has failed to keep me strong.


 
Broken, shattered, open...

I wait for  remaining  life to trickle through

I  take a breath and close my eyes.

What else can a dying soldier do?


Then I feel the warmth of  something,

Emerging through the armour’s crack

It isn’t blood, it isn’t life

It isn’t loss, or grief or lack.

 

In this trickling warmth there is a peace

That shines from deep inside.

I watch as it comes pouring through

Until there is nothing left to hide.

 

Then above us all, the sun shines down

From a sky that was so grey.

And brothers and enemies together awaken

From the bloody fields on which they lay.

 


It is from these tiny cracks in the world's falsehoods

That Grace will so eloquently  flow through

Offering her gracious, healing power

From the depth of what is true.

 

It is in this truth that she brings with her

That we will finally be free

Of the heavy chains of self defense

And the demands of “little me”.

 
Peace is in her offering

Her special gift to all.

So let go of your defenses,

Just let your armour fall

 

Let go to what Life offers you,

With Grace your gentle guide.

Instead of  leaving cracks for her to pour through

We can simply   open wide.


Dale-Lyn 2019


Man...I wasn't going to put that here.  Yesterday it started to come out here.  I took it off the blog page into a word doc so I could finish it.  Different day...different flow. 

It started out rhyming...not that I ever, ever intend it to...it just does.  Maybe if I  go with the flow when it is ready to come out , as it is ready to come out, that may not be a problem...but when I  go back after...rhyme scheme gets in the way.  You know the story lol.

Ego tells me not to publish it but something else tells me to put it down where it started.  :) Oh the mind of someone who writes poetry is a strange and twisted thing lol.

All is well

Added note: This is so uncanny.  I wrote this the day before yesterday and was not sure why the image of battlefields kept coming in to my mind...when I was simply wanting to write about cracks for Grace to come through. Well it came out in the poem. After I published this yesterday, I read the quote of the day from my desktop calendar:

People who fight with other human beings out of anger, hatred, and strong emotion, even if they gain victory over their enemies in battle, are not in reality true heroes. ....The true hero is the one who gains victory over hatred and anger.
Dalai Lama
 
How cool is that?