Scars

We collect scars like trophies,
Running our fingers down each shiny surface
As the dust of years dissipates with each stroke

And pain, like the grandest of glittering diamonds draped around our neck
Each memory a sharp-edged facet cutting deep within its cold embrace

While the finest cloak of purple–so carefully draped around our body
Is knit of wounds and bruises too slow to heal in time

And yet so regally we stand
Gazing silently upon the carnage wrought throughout the years
As echoing within we hear a whispering refrain

Who set me to rule
over this desert land?

To Wrestle with God

To wrestle with God
is to prevail in the face of adversity.
It’s to have hope when there is none.
To keep striding forward
when all you want to do is lay your weary soul to rest.
To wrestle with God
is to battle your very self
and win.