I find you in inconsistent places
In the dark shadows behind locked doors
Or the breeze blowing in through a cracked window,
You keep reminding me that you haven’t left.
When holding my palms together in prayer feels too much like
Being sent straight to voicemail, it is these places that I look for you, God.
In the dark, in the shattered pieces of my reflection,
You allowed me to become ashes, but you did not stamp out the embers,
God you always gave some hope of a future glow,
I am the remnants of a girl who used to have it all figured out and you are the looking glass that I keep seeing myself through,
You are the stitches in my cracks,
I became undone so that you could sew me back up,
God I’m afraid of torn threads.
It’s that feeling when falling into white bed sheets feels like flags raised high in surrender, my limbs can no longer support this sinner’s body,
I have reached the end of myself.
I no longer know what it feels like to stand on solid ground,
I am an earthquake of instability,
God I keep messing up.
For every drink, every high, every night spent in somebody else’s empty arms,
You have already forgiven me,
And when nightfall comes, and the blackness chokes out all hope for morning,
You wait for me.
And in the blank space you find me,
draw me on to your map and hold tightly.
And when I cry out that nowhere feels like home you hold me close,
Run my hands across your scars and say, “you’re here. And You never left”
You use the jagged pieces of my body and glue me back together,
I am a puzzle piece mosaic,
god your light shines through me,
Turning my dark colors into pastels,
Scattering my reflection in a million different places,
You have turned my ruins into redemption
I am a declaration that even the broken can be artwork in your eyes.
This poem won first place in the poetry section of The Driftwood. Keana McGrath will read her poem at the Driftwood Award Ceremony March 25 at 5:30 p.m.
The Point Editorial Staff 
superadmin