Writings of a Sinner

For all sin and fall short of the glory of God

Month: May, 2014


Broken silence in a dying room

is the beat of a drum not a moment too soon.


The first drop of rain upon scorched earth

is a triumphant sound and a jubilant birth.


To aching bones and a tired mind

a bed could never be more kind.


Gold, silver, and marble statues tall,

a fresh breath of air is worth more than them all.





Where does the pain go when it’s gone?

Does it leave, or do you become immune?

Yes, I think so.

How will I rest when I can no longer sing myself to sleep?

Will it come through tears, or through medication?

Yes, I’m sure of it.

What is this itch in the back of my throat?

Is it a craving for solitude, or for company?

Yes, of course.