Beneath My Skin

The boxes on the calendar grid
Twelve months and seven days a week
The columns and rows neatly spread
For everything to be kept in check.

A clean slate- blank, empty and bare
marks the new life of each square.
How each box so long to stay
that same way each and everyday.

If only they could stay that way
like they were many yesterdays.
Alas, it is not to be
for them to remain carefree.

Ink marks soon found their way
more so with each passing day
to the boxes that once were bare
and scarred them beyond repair.

O how heavy the burden to bear
for the load to be stuffed in each square,
to snuff out every empty space
and wipe off every smiling face

where no air is left for breathers
cos' of all the ink that clattered
as fatigue plagues all sensations
at the brink of suffocation.

How I long for yesterday
before the ink marks found their way.
Yet, I know yesterday can't stay
If it could, it won't be yesterday.

There remains One who stay the same
be it yesterday or today.
Wait on that One to renew strength
to climb up again from the depths.

The heft of the filled packed squares
will not be heavy to bear,
for the load's not meant to be
weight for mere humanity.

How I eagerly long to share
the strain of all the filled packed squares
with the One who stays the same
be it yesterday or today.

When I was a young infant,
someone gave me this word,
'He is always enough for you,'
and I believed it to be true.

When I was a young toddler
facing several little stumpers,
that word I often recall-
apart from Him I need nothing more.

As I grew and matured,
unknowingly I took for granted
what that word truly means
is more than what it merely seems.

I stumbled but I did not fall
thanks to Him I stand tall
And deep down inside I ponder
how could He remain yonder?

He is always enough for me.
That i had always known to be.
Yet I lean not on Him
when I was caught in the whirlwind.

O how foolish it is indeed
to take to the winding streets
when the highway and straight paths
were always there for me to pass.

The relief dawns upon me
when my eyes opened to see
my ashes traded in for His beauty
basked in His glory and majesty.

I lift my hands in surrender
to Him I will gladly offer
my heart, soul and whole being
for He is always enough for me.

For years the trodden path,
so familiar and at times tough,
had been a comfort zone
for the traveller now outgrown.

The beaten track now behind him
tells his story within,
well-littered by the fallen leaves
to which his soul was fondly cleaved.

The cobbled street ahead
gazed at him cold, with nothing said.
He knows not what awaits
beyond the steps he used to take.

Count it all Joy
when things don't go our way
For I thank Him
that you are here with me

Count it all Joy
when things do go our way
And I thank Him
that we can share the Joy

Indeed it is all Joy
whether tears or laughter
For He has let it be
that we may so enjoy

Blessed be His Name
through it all
be it given or taken away
For the Joy that's in my life