Jesus - Hello Poetry

May 6

Sia Harms

The sharp corners of stairs,
A valley of ups and downs,
Housing a river of tears—
My struggles swelled at my
Ankles, slowly trying to rise.
If I did not climb forward,
Upward, towards my Father,
I would be drowned by this
World, caught in the Death
He had defeated on an old,
Waterlogged cross for the
Redemption of our souls.

May 5

Sia Harms

The Forger

The indestructable diamond—
Made from pressure, suffering,
Shaped by the love that never
Relents, the Spirit working in
Our Chests as He turns the
Coal of our hearts into the
Glistening imitation of Him.

May 5

Sia Harms

Iron on Iron

Iron on Iron—
Sparks of God’s glory
Flying from the interaction.
Seeds of growth
Burning holes in the curtains
Of the sins we justify.
Light on light,
Illuminating a dormant candle
To the glow of Jesus.
Iron on Iron,
Sharpening one another's
Swords of faith.

Sharpen one another in love and faith.

May 2

Sia Harms

only Opinion that Matters

Walking on the outskirts,
A smile crimped clean,
Holding on to the hope
Of leftover’s satiation.
Fifty feet away, zoom in
Until it’s almost like you’re
There, meeting success,
Your arm laden with their
Coats, falling into the idea
That you’re worth only
The change in the pockets.

Your hands grip around
Your midsection, thoughts
Cinching chains on your
Potential--uncurl them.
Watch the static in your
Hair loosen as you give
Yourself up to the arms
Of the only opinion that
Matters, the only love that
Can disprove the doubts
Of this insatiable world.

He sees us as clean, covered by His son's blood. Is he proud of us as we follow Him, or does he shake His head as we take His sacrifice for granted?

May 2

Sia Harms

the Engineer

A fraying string, sagging down,
A bridge fallen into a chasm—
My head heavy on its stem,
Joints all dislocated—
A pile of mismatched items,
Their use, coalition, unclear
To my strained eyes—
Gaze lifted beyond understanding,
The silken Spirit reached down,
Using the useless parts
For His enduring plan.

Apr 25

Sia Harms

Shame is Not from God

The sleeve pitched too low,
The fist that curls like a mouth,
Sour with regret.

An endless round of lashings,
All thirty-nine, wrought upon
Ourselves.

Backs against the wall,
Deadweight in our hearts,
All our fault.

Shame is not from God.

Apr 21

Sia Harms

before & After

A hop down memory lane,
A world of darkness
Written in the cobblestones.
I relived it all on purpose,
Knowing it was where
I would find my inspiration.

. . .

I shifted the focus
From the brokeness
Of my heart
To the peace that lies
In the grace of my God.

Apr 21

Sia Harms

the Cross of Doorways

I left on my own,
My hand still on the
Smooth doorway.
I could see the blood
Of past generations
Smeared over the paint,
Flickering in my eyes.
The original cross—
I was not on my own.
I was covered by
The Lamb.

Apr 21

Sia Harms

Rain of Resurrection

Let it fall away—
The distractions and
The faulty imitations
Of our world—

Your love becomes
A field of peace,
Empty of all I have
Used to replace You.

It begins to rain.
Soft, red droplets,
Falling on my nose
And cleaning the  
Soot on my skin.

It is a flood of
Grace only making
The wildflowers
Bloom brighter, the
Sun burn deeper, and
My heart feel more
Real in my chest.

I breathe in, knowing
The clouds cannot
Hold Your love, nor
Stop Your blood from
Covering our sin.

Apr 17

Sia Harms

I Write because

The ink staining my fingertips
Turns into the deep red
Of Jesus’s blood as
I stare.
The well of doubts deep in
My heart is calmed by
The purpose of
My God.

Apr 17

Sia Harms

only His love

“Why can’t I feel it, Lord?”
He leans back in my chest,
A sigh, a tilt of the head,
The firelight gentle as it
Glazes the side of His face.
“Are you looking for My love,
Or a feeling you already know?”

His love is unlike anything we have ever known. It is something this earth cannot provide.

Apr 17

Sia Harms

Detergent of Grace

Smudged tiles and tilted walkways,
Machines that clunked and rattled,
Accompanied by drowsy people
Waiting for grace.

I stumbled to an empty metal box,
My filthy rags clutched in my hands,
And threw them in, falling to my knees.
I had no detergent,

No way to wash the deep-rooted stains
The world had reaped upon them.
My own choices stared back at me like
Dirt from the subway.

Tears started to carve tracks down my
Face as the blood of Jesus soaked
Into the garments, covering the grime
As they began to spin.

When I opened the door, they were
Made new again.

I will not call impure what You have made clean. Acts 10:15

Apr 17

Sia Harms

The Swingset

The pattern of the chains
Imprints on the pads of
My hands as I cling tightly
To the swings.

My hair is taken by the wind.
I hear a song in my head.
I sway back and forth, my
Feet dry from the sand.

The moment is taken
Too soon.

No matter the years
That settle themselves
On my frame,
I will forever be a Child,
Pushed on the swings
By my Father.