Time to Share a Few Lines

Most of my work I have published as hymns for the church or in choral pieces. But I have always loved trying to find a way with words, and some of those lines either are never published or only serve well as poetry. I have always hesitated to put my poetry out there because I am tempted to think no one would read it. I wrote a poem once that expressed this hesitation then submitted it for publication, hoping then I would finally find validation to assuage my fears. But the poem was rejected (cruel fate!). So I did nothing with it.

Well, today I decided it was time to share a few lines. Down the road, I hope to share other lyrics that never made it into songs or poems that simply sat unshared. One of my greatest disappointments as an artist is when I meet other artists with so much they can offer the world, but will so little initiative to share it. I am resolving to avoid that error at the risk of committing another potentially greater error. I may not have much to offer the world and still share it! You can decide, and if what I write is worth taking the time to read, praise be to God.

When I Thought to Put My Pen to the Page

When I thought to put my pen to the page,
To bare my heart upon the stage
Of wordsmiths and poet laureates,
I hesitated, waited, stayed.
There once was a day I plunged headlong
Into the work and sang my song
Without a thought to whoever hears,
A mockingbird who never fears,
Line after line, rhyme after rhyme.

But time—ah, time! Bears uncertainty,
Not of timid indecision,
But of human fallibility.
Oh! My own inadequacy!
How deep my bleak insufficiency,
Deeper still, my depravity.
Prone to pride in each thought, word, and deed,
Prone to own respectable greed,
Prone to waste God’s great gift of time.

And time—ah, time! With the passing years
From careless youth to teenage fears,
From marriage vows to the bassinet,
Days distill each fleeting minute,
The arduous climbs and victories!
Yet time, it marches on,
For the better or the worse of me.
The worse, when I look at myself.
The better, by one reality:
The shadow cast on my life’s dial
Is traced in the shape of a cross.

And so I put my pen to the page,
That saints have stained from every age,
I catch my breath, then begin again,
Others wrote red in martyr’s blood,
Some cut short before their time,
Who knows the length of their next rhyme?
So if you see yourself in me,
A moment in eternity,
Will you listen to my
Song before it’s
Gone?
Not for me above all others,
But among my sisters and my brothers,
Who paused before their pen touched the page
Then bore their heart upon the stage.

~CP