On Poetry

 On Poetry

Poetry moves the heart 
reminding me of 
the reality, that beauty
is
art.
 
Poetry, or is it beauty? 
They weave tightly together 
and draw my soul 
like a moth to the flame, 
soothing the pain 
in the space created, 
that's too big for words. 
My heart and soul 
are naturally drawn to beauty.
Reminding me 
I am created 
in His image,
beautiful. 
And in this fallen world…
 
He takes in all of me 
-- the broken, damaged, abused, and abuser parts -- 
and restores me again and again in beauty.

He doesn't see as I see. 
He sees beauty in broken people, in me, 
who He loves to:
re-create...
re-store...
re-story...
re-turn...
to His original intent

...(wait for it)...

And His beautiful love, my friend....
That is,… poetry!!!

Poem 21-301A