Spiritual Splits

10/2/24

A poem about a collage of experiences from Christian teenagers battling the temptations of living in a fallen world.

Feeling torn in two,

playing Pangea

with Lily Pads:

the kingdom of God

vs the mud of the flood

under my feet.

One thing I look forward to—

dangling my toes

over a lazy lake

sitting on a deck

next to Jesus

whose toes

swing a li’l lower than mine

parting waters below,

bending the fabric of space-time.

Too much mercury in my blood.

A doctor once told me

the last time he’s seen

heavy metals like those

was at a rock concert

in a psych ward.

What am I working toward?

There’s a button in my brain

that gets stuck

when I think of dark stuff

like suicide and porn.

You’d think I’d know better.

I’m a Christian re-born

with my own personal superhero

whose superpower is flying into my brain,

freeing neurons of hope

to keep me from going insane.

Darkness is raw inertia.

A Black Hole of seduction.

BuzzBallz before class.

Flavored vapes in the bathroom,

self-medicating with nic and grass.

Dancing girls with Daddy issues in my bed.

And intrusive thoughts like percussions in my head

that used to scare me.

I’ve lived with them for so long

I’m confusing love for hate,

freedom for sticky-buttons,

and being on time for chronically being late.

The best way to get unstuck

is to learn to hate,

punch, push and shove,

the faces in the dark

I’ve grown to love.

 

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Mariann
Mariann
2 months ago

Awesome.

11/5/24

Kernels of gold sowed in sweat. Embodied husks designed to protect. Multicolored grain, a heavenly harvest. The plague in the Garden— one locust started— the Reaper ransoms to forget.   A rotted ear only hears the screams of its own dissection, an eternity of introspection. Rows of corn restless with guilt. The cup of wrath…

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10/18/24

Christmas for Ginny has always been the most important day of the year. It’s a magical day when anything is possible, like the unprecedented miracle of God taking on human form; it’s when a supernatural star led the Magi to the infant God-man, lying helplessly in a symbolic feeding trough; and it’s when men met God face-to-Face in a humble manger to worship him and feed from him. Ginny loves Christmas for both its majestic beauty and historical truth. She understands, however, that this sacred day has been tainted with folklore and commercialism, but experience and wisdom enable her to see these gilded traditions as a way to bridge the gap between the sacred and the profane. For Ginny, a gift for someone special on Christmas is a reminder of the greatest Gift ever given. So naturally Ginny wants to give Brad something special for Christmas. But she, too, finds herself without two pennies to rub together. Then, suddenly, an idea flashes across her mind that makes her eyes water, feeling the internal warmth that comes with giving wholeheartedly.

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10/17/24

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