Why am I hiding?
What have I to fear?
My words, when kept deep within,
tear at my soul to find their way out,
gasping for a precious breath of life.
These invaluable words are not meant to be buried
and I don’t want to become the wicked, lazy
bury-er of what God has planted.
Their power to hurt is mitigated, sure,
but so is their power to heal, to stretch, to grow…
Their life-giving breeze is stifled within
when kept below the surface and kept away from the crowds.
“Out loud” is where they belong,
free to voice dreams and right wrongs,
free to run into stories and songs.
And when it really is Your breath in my lungs
there is no greater praise I posses to pour out
than to tell the story You’re writing.
To tell it well.
And to tell is whole.
And to tell it always.