GimmyDiamond
02-27-2007, 08:38 PM
I posted this poem once before (I deleted it or had it removed-can't remember which- bad because the wonderful responses to it are gone :() but anyways . . . here it is again . . .
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There is manna at my feet
There is manna on the ground
I walk over it
I walk around
I try to look away
For every step I take away
A mile in front unfolds
Flooded, filled with manna
I cannot run from this God
This God who brings me to desert wastelands
You bring me here to die
So let me die
What salvation is this?
In this lonely desolation, all I see is raining manna
All I see are reminders of how you once again have forsaken me
Paths of righteousness, what path but that of thorns
What path before me but that of rock and sand
You have utterly abandoned me
And how you taunt me with manna
Am I to trust you?
No, how could I trust someone who would take away my splendor
Who would dare to call it nothing, who would call my joy sin
And instead leave me in a violent aching wilderness
Oh God I curse you even as I ask you to restore me
But all I see is manna
I am sick with the sight of manna
You said you would finish the work you began in me
What hope is there for me?
What can be honed when it cannot be found?
I believed you, in you . . . I’m still waiting, waiting in this cruel, loathsome place
For you to find me and perfect me
But still you leave me with nothing
There is nothing in my hands
Nothing on me feet
And the smell of manna is growing as it piles upon the ground
It is to my ankles now
Do you not care oh Lord that I am dying?
Do you not care?
Oh God, you cursed God, you leave me here to rot
I will rot and die
And still the smell of manna will haunt me
A God who leads His people to die in the desert
What is that God?
And still the manna comes
_________________________________________________
There is manna at my feet
There is manna on the ground
I walk over it
I walk around
I try to look away
For every step I take away
A mile in front unfolds
Flooded, filled with manna
I cannot run from this God
This God who brings me to desert wastelands
You bring me here to die
So let me die
What salvation is this?
In this lonely desolation, all I see is raining manna
All I see are reminders of how you once again have forsaken me
Paths of righteousness, what path but that of thorns
What path before me but that of rock and sand
You have utterly abandoned me
And how you taunt me with manna
Am I to trust you?
No, how could I trust someone who would take away my splendor
Who would dare to call it nothing, who would call my joy sin
And instead leave me in a violent aching wilderness
Oh God I curse you even as I ask you to restore me
But all I see is manna
I am sick with the sight of manna
You said you would finish the work you began in me
What hope is there for me?
What can be honed when it cannot be found?
I believed you, in you . . . I’m still waiting, waiting in this cruel, loathsome place
For you to find me and perfect me
But still you leave me with nothing
There is nothing in my hands
Nothing on me feet
And the smell of manna is growing as it piles upon the ground
It is to my ankles now
Do you not care oh Lord that I am dying?
Do you not care?
Oh God, you cursed God, you leave me here to rot
I will rot and die
And still the smell of manna will haunt me
A God who leads His people to die in the desert
What is that God?
And still the manna comes