52 Weeks of Gratitude, Week Twenty-Three: A physical trait
Mine eyes have seen the glory
An innocent seed, once torn apart,
now births a vulnerable sapling
to stretch and sway towards the light:
a journey to understand the knowledge
of near dangers and distant stars.
The path beneath my feet is dusty–
like brittle, broken bones praying for life–
yet sweet and true as honey
to fill my eyes with the glory that waits
at the end of this toil and strife.
The ocean throws itself against the rocks
in an effort to crumble and destroy;
but it also calls, it nudges, it sends
a whisper on the wind to challenge
the silhouette on the shoreline to speak.
In the midst of the storm, darkness
clouds my vision and I lose hope, gasping
for nonexistent air beneath the surface
of my pride, and I have to surrender
myself to the waves to be saved.
A promised land unveils its own beauty:
its splendor casts aside all fear
and illuminates every dark corner
with hope and a chorus of birdsong
to praise the Lord who brought them there.
Citizens of Heaven, we are royalty.
We’ve been born anew– from dust and ashes
to worship and victory garlands,
from feeding pigs to feasting joy,
and endless wilderness to eternal glory.