freedom
Surrender, no Surrender – Poem 313/365
Soft Lives – Poem 146/365
Poem 126/365 – Prison
Poem 54/365 – My Soul Stretched Out Her Hand
Prisoners Of Ourselves
Lord, bring
New life
where we are worn and tired
New love
where we have turned hard hearted
Forgiveness
where we feel hurt
and where we have wounded
And the joy and freedom
of your Holy Spirit
where we are the Prisoners of Ourselves
From Wild Goose Worship Group’s
A Wee Worship Book
The Journey by Mary Oliver
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.