A Poem: Gift

It is my job as a poet seer,
as one who feels before I see
to find the words, even if it hurts.

To carry the light into dark corners.
To bring the word that turns the heart,
the word that speaks into the barren centre

that it might spring to life.

We are each given life
to turn it from more than a spark,
to draw from it a forest fire.

All of us, are given the means to
grow the gifts we have received.
And they are not for us, never for us;

but we are blessed through their practice.

What brings life to others
charges us at our own core.
We live in the stream, when we are living who we truly are.

It is my job to follow my unravelling pen.
Just as its yours to draw the glory that you see;
to move heaven and earth in prayer

or lay out a table for your friends, and your enemies.

To turn compassion into action,
to bandage up and heal.
To express the love that is your reason, in the way you are designed.

We are each of us His
and He becomes revealed to the extent that
we express His heart through our gifts.

Yes, it is my job, even if it hurts
to faithfully draw images with my words.
To bring to birth again and again the

new thing He wants to do.

We have a vocation,
each a calling and to find it is to
follow the stream to the source.

To put out our clay jars
and watch them fill
that we might pour them out

Into the world.

Ana Lisa de Jong
September 2017
Photo by Henry Be on Unsplash
 

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