No. 11 of my 30 in 15 for National Poetry Month

Untitled

I don't take heart
or find satisfaction
in the fact that
there is someone worse off than me

  

So yes, I get angry
I grumble and complain
Sometimes shake my fist at God
I hate catching the bus in the rain

And I hate going to sleep alone some nights
Or realizing my friends have in the last year caught 4, 5, 6 flights
Done got wifed
And I wait in what seems a sea of mediocrity                                 
Finding it hard to not wonder: what's wrong with me?           

I want to see the world
I want to fall madly in love
I want my dreams realized

Not ignored under the guise of my victories coming in the next life.    

My hope is to see them in this one.

Mirakol Smith, April 24, 2015

No. 9 of my 30 in 15 for National Poetry Month

Rejoice

You are in the middle of your Psalm.

Your victory is yet impending.

Not putting on face or facade,

You are a deep well.
                                                          
Just as you revel with great mirth,

So do you hurt.

You are soulful.
                                                
You are melancholic.

And in the midst of it all...

You are smiled upon, dear daughter.     

Your Father sings melodies over you.

Rejoice!

For you are in the middle of your Psalm.

Mirakol Smith, April 23, 2015

No. 6 of my 30 in 15 for National Poetry Month

Good Ground

There are times when I feel I'm brittle, dry, barren.

I wonder if the life I know was predestined will spring up from me.

Am I beyond reparation?

This soil of mine…cracked, thirsting for more…

Will it ever reveal new life?

It becomes a bit cumbersome for a bud with little hope

To wonder if it'll ever come into full bloom.

Seeds have been sown.

Weeds are being pulled.

Thorns are gradually being snipped away.

Intermittent sunshine and rain.

Just when there seemed to be no hope in this arid land

God breaks open the heavens, and pours out His blessings.

He is not withholding his greatness from His people.

Somebody prayed.

And I am reminded of a word whispered to me before one Sunday service…

"You are good ground."

While damp, muddy, and a bit messy…good ground, indeed.

Mirakol Smith, originally written and posted on May  27, 2014

If My people, who are called by My name, shall humble themselves, pray, seek, crave,and require of necessity My face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land. Now My eyes will be open and My ears attentive to prayer offered in this place. For I have chosen and sanctified (set apart for holy use) this house, that My Name may be here forever, and My eyes and My heart will be here perpetually.

2 Chronicles 7:14-16 (AMP)

But He said to me, My grace (My favor and loving-kindness and mercy) is enough for you [sufficient against any danger and enables you to bear the trouble manfully]; for Mystrength and power are made perfect (fulfilled and completed) and show themselves most effective in [your] weakness. Therefore, I will all the more gladly glory in my weaknesses and infirmities, that the strength and power of Christ (the Messiah) may rest (yes, may pitch a tent over and dwell) upon me!

2 Corinthians 12:9

No. 5 of my 30 in 15 for National Poetry Month

For You

It takes a special kind of fighter, a warrior--to see the depths, lined with shards and fire.
Encamped in murky waters.
Draped in melancholy and wrapped in despair--
to dive in armed with simply a heart to see you healed and free.

This is for you.

Those who've had the seeming displeasure of swimming in my deep. My hurt. My longing.

Those who, with the Father's heart, said they were not afraid, that I don't have to apologize for my brokenness.

Those who look on my face with delight at the little girl I was, the woman I am, and my becoming.

For my family, both blood and blood bought. For my friends. For my teachers and leaders. For the strangers who listened when God told them to speak, to see her.

For the mothers who don't have their own, yet saw a daughter to nurture and did so without pause.

For the fathers with a God-sized desire to see sons and daughters experience real fathers.

This is for you.

And I hope you can accept my thank you, though my words will never be enough to show my gratitude.

Because there will never be an elocutionary means to adequately express the deepest appreciation of those who fight for the ones who could never repay them.

This...this is for you.

Thank you.

Mirakol Smith, April 16, 2015