He's Alive!

An Easter poem

On the cross, He died for us
Three days pass, He's back to life
He's alive, He's alive, He's alive!

Let me encourage you with this
If you're struggling to survive
He's alive, He's alive, He's alive!

Don't fret if you're in trouble
Don't fret if you're in strife
He's alive, He's alive, He's alive!

Get off that balcony, leave those pills
And put down that rusty knife
He's alive, He's alive, He's alive!

Tell your friends, tell your family
Tell your husband, tell your wife
He's alive, He's alive, He's alive!

The good news is for everyone
Whether you're eighty or five:
He's alive, He's alive, He's alive!

*

Have a blessed Easter!

more than just a face.

She is more than just a face

She is more than just her skin

There is so much more to her

There is so much more within

She knows she has zits

She knows her oily complexion

She knows she looks exhausted

She knows she's not an attraction

But her skin glows when she speaks

Of the people and things she loves

Her smile displays joy genuine

When she praises her God above

She knows her face used to be round

And she may have lost some weight

She knows that she's not as fit as she'd like

But who are you to rate?

Do you know she has passions?

Do you know she has a dream?

Do you know she loves to teach

And watch her students' faces beam?

Do you realise she's more than grades?

Do you know what she loves most?

Do you know she loves to write

And pour out her thoughts in prose?

She does not care that she looks like this

And she doesn't care when you mention

But what she wants is for you to know

She's worth more if you pay attention

So, she is more than just a face

She is more than just her skin

There is so much more to her

There is so much more within.

It is well.

It is well with my soul, she said
As negativity simmered in her head
Derived from conversations both cold and hot
Conclusion-less arguments more often than not

It is well, oh, it is well
She whispered as the tears fell
What could be done? How much can she take?
What difference, if any, did her attempts make?

Are you at all well, oh dear soul?
Life indeed has taken its toll
A declaration of the soul's welfare
Destroyed to its core, stripped completely bare

It is well with my soul? As if!
To have a soul at this point was a gift
Please be well, soul, please be free
What was a statement became a desperate, helpless plea.

Oh dear soul, it is well indeed.

Sleep.

Like a threat of the day's end
Darkness and shadows loom
The bed creaks, the blanket shifts
As the child lays in her room
Whimpering and trembling
Sobbing in fear
"I don't want to sleep,"
says the child, as a tear
Slips down her cheek quietly
She tries to keep her eyes closed
And eventually drifts off, oblivious
To all monsters and ghosts

Years down the road, she's not afraid
Of sleeping all alone
However a scarier thing has appeared
A teenager's pleasure: her phone
Ghosts and monsters don't exist
She's not afraid anymore
But she's enslaved by the screen in her hand
Once she closes her door
The tweets, statuses, endless loops
Of the six-second moving picture
She's sucked in and her phone has become
A deadly, permanent fixture
"I don't want to sleep,"
says the teen, as tears start to come
From her blood-shot eyes that have yet to blink
Cramped is her right thumb
Scrolling continuously on a screen
That steals her precious sleep
She's sleep-deprived and knows her mistake
But cyberspace is just too deep
A black hole, a vaccuum,
a constant distraction
A questionable force
with too strong of an attraction
"Stop, stop, stop," she thinks
"I'll sleep after this one..."
An hour later: "I'll stop right here
Just one more, and I'm done"