He Strengthens Me

Cry out my heart, let the soreness slip away with the tears, the heaviness in my heart that weighs me down,
Negativity that sucks me into the deep abyss of despair; weakness and hopelessness surround.
My heart wants to holler at the mundane around me, to scream profanities at the foolishness around me,
Questions, questions, more questions I see, Peace, Hope and Faith, these virtues elude me.
There is a battle within, a war in my soul, as though my soul is two pieces of a whole,

I quell the voices within and the feeblest one, I pick,
The one that gently tells me not to fall for the Evil One's trick
To believe is a choice, a tough one to make, but I will make it for His Name sake,
Faith is the answer, His love is the key, I can do all for He strengthens me.

He was also there

I close my eyes and try to see,
the sense in all that's happening to me,
Dusk is settling in, another day gone,
Of lost promises and dreams turned to dust,
The Sun slowly sets on the horizon,
taking my dreams with it, it seems,
Lord, I ask you for you made me,
what are the plans that you forsee?
Puzzled, confused , I want my answers now,
the future is full of Why? When? and How?

An aching soul, a watered down smile,
Downcast eyes, tears brimming, trickle down in a while,
all the guilt and the shame, resurface again,
my mind it plays all the tricks again,
Sin must be the cause, I am the one to blame,
maybe I deserve to feel all of this pain
Self pity creeps in and makes my soul its home,
I single out my pain, and doubt if God really knows.


I close my eyes again to concentrate and strain my ears
to hear the gentle whisper that speaks through the storm,
Cacophony reigns, I cannot hear His Voice,
I am convinced and dejected,
That me, He has rejected,
That's the end of my tether, I am in total despair,
My heart its bruised and hurt, broken beyond repair,
That even God didn't want me, the thought i could not bear.


Suddenly I felt a moistness on my cheek,
I wiped it .. it was blood(!) , I panicked..i freaked,
I looked above my head, to see the source of the blood,
Was suprised to see, twas a picture of the Lord,
It had Him kneeling, His hands folded in prayer,
In Gethsamene, He was laying His heart bare.
Sweat-soaked His forehead, bloodied His brow,
the drop that trickled onto me, was a symbol of love,
Sacrificing His Life as He died upon the tree,
The Purpose of Calvary was to set me free,

He said to me with kind voice, as I held my face to His,
"When alone upon that Cross, I felt exactly like this,
I couldn't hear my Father and cacophony reigned
I called out to my Father and ignorance He feigned,
It broke my Spirit to think that by Him I was rejected,
My heart too was bruised and broken beyond repair,
That my Father did not want me, the thought I too could not bear.
but then I commited my Spirit to his hands, trusted him with all my might
And as I looked heavenward, I saw Him in his glorious light
His arms were open wide, his eyes brimming with tears,
Well done my Son, He said. "Against the Devil, you put up a good fight."

His answer surprised me, I realised with a start,
That Jesus too had felt that way,was indeed a humbling thought,
So I wiped my tears, mustered up my faith and closed my eyes again,
but this time it was different, for I saw My Father through my Pain,
These days when in times of doubt and fear, I strain my ears to hear His voice,
Cacophony still reigns, there is still a lot of noise,
But then I lift my heart, heavenward and whisper a silent prayer,
Father I know you are like my shadow, with me everywhere,
I rest assured and peaceful, though around me there's despair,
My Saviour also felt this way, He was also there.

For her!

A powerful woman though frail in frame, what can I call her? u give her a name!

A maze of thoughts and emotions, is she, she feels many things at once and yet her demeanour never reveals,

Decades of life she has seen, with its twists and turns, some bizarre, some real,

Her spirit was bruised, beaten and broken, yet she reminded herself, she was broken for a reason.

She is beneath all the layers of let-downs, heartache, expectations and fears,

Revealing herself to none, sheilding her sorrows, she cannot let her guard down

Inside they stay, all bottled up, clogging her Soul, threatening to get her down,

The mirror smiles at her reflection, the lines seem to speak of a story - real not fiction,

She has often wondered what dreams and desires are made of, for she cannot seem to remember her own.

Dreams she has seen for those around, her own dreams?!... well they don't seem to count,

Look deeper, those lines she calls wrinkles have stories to tell,

Of a life less ordinary, lived with extraordinary courage,

Death, birth, union, discord, insult, hurt, love, laughter, tears,

Yes! those wrinkles have stories to tell

The mirror smiles at her reflection, the lines seem to speak of a story - real not fiction,

Grey hair playing hide n' seek remind her of the times gone by,

Carefree days of childhood, food on the table, friends in the park,

Summer hols, Enid Blytons and playing after dark

Country music, a game of darts, jaunts after dinner, chocolates and tarts,

Those days were of Peace, of finding Joy in things small,

Of cosy banter with friends, neighbours et al,

those days of yore, shall never come back, those days she does not want 'em back anymore,

what she longs for is the Joy, the Peace, the Carefreeness that her days now seek,

Would she wish upon a star for a life different?

would things have been better, if Life gave a second chance?

The mirror smiles at her reflection, the lines seem to speak of a story - real not fiction,

Those thin lines etched deep speak of a silent resilience and a steely resolve,

Yet at the sight of her Man and her brood, the resolve, dissolves.

Her brood is hers, her identity, she sees her Self in them,

yet there are days of doubt and despair, when losing her own identity, she feels that their lives have no room for her,

She fears that she hasn't done much for them, no contributions, no tall claims in building their lives,

Franctically she searches for traces of her share in their growing up... disappointed to know that there isn't much she did>

Not realising that her Presence, just her presence always healed, always mended, always reassured...yesterday.. today ..tomorrow...everyday

Dark circles around bright eyes are witness to the sights she has seen,
They are much like the outline of her life, Bolder and darker and deeper with each passing day,

The mirror smiles at her reflection, the lines speak HER story - real not fiction,

The story of a young girl, who blossomed into Womanhood albeit, prematurely,

Whose wisdom and counsel are much sought, a wisdom gained having experienced things rare,

Whose kindness and benevolence are praised sky high, but these virtues she gathered in her ordinary life,

Patience, compassion, goodness and grace , " an attached detachment " her Life's phrase

Now She speaks to her Self in confident voice, she will fight the fight, she will not give in.

A powerful woman though frail in frame, what can I call her? u give her a name!

She smiles at the Mirror, assured and strong, knowing that Surely God could not go wrong.

My Restlessness...His Rest

Feel listless today, restless and sore, the brain is all fuzzy, it don't work any more,

Don't feel His presence, He seems faraway, there seems to be none who has time to care,

all are busy with their million tasks, all seem to say - 'you don't have a part'

loneliness sets in though strangely i am, surrounded by a crowd of a hundred and nine.

where is my space? can i carve my niche? my voice within goes unheard, though i screech

All i can hear are the whirring PCs, click-clacking keyboards, Mouse and machine!

somedays are like this, dull and sore, where fake smiles and handshakes are such a bore,

competition's strong, it can get you down, welcome to the world of ' fury and sound'

I feel fear within, i wish to hide, but I want to feel secure, I wish to feel ' at Home',

I plug my ears tight and block out the noises, I close my eyes shut and hope the world pauses

And then through the Solitude I hear a sweet voice - lean on Me, my little one, hold on tight,

Learn from Me, Trust me, My burden is light.

I am your Friend, you're carved on my Palm, surrender yourself, experience My calm,

Believe I have plans, plans for your good, situations and circumstances, I can use for your good,

You need to rest, let your murmurings cease, give me your sorrows, feel happy- at peace,

Peace fills my soul, I am washed in His love,

His are the Everlasting Arms I call Home.

The Empty Manger

The stage was set, the lights aglow, she added the finishing touches to the 'show'
The manger looked real, so beautifully done, but where was the Baby, he was not to be found,
'Who would notice?, ' what was the need? Last year too none had paid heed.

"Get on with it", yelled a Committee Member, ' haven't got all day, for you to play with hay.'
"He'll be here any moment!'', growled another, ' Who? Jesus? ', she asked, with an innocent smile
' No, the Chief Guest you silly, with a bio-data as long as the River Nile! '

Quickly she started to clear all the hay, motioned to a young man, to help her make way.
He ran up to her and tried to chip in, " here, clear this mess before the Chief guest is in'
From the corner of her eye she peered at the stranger, 'do you come to this church? ', her question seemed stranger.
' I live around here ', he cheerfully replied. ' Haven't you seen me, with my smile so divine? '
' That's a bit queer, for I thought I knew all, but you I haven't seen ever... at all.'
He looked crest fallen at her sudden repartee, she guessed he was hoping she'd be more friendly.
'You are not the only one who's going to say this , ask any member, he would never have noticed.'
'Who has the time or the intention, to look out for me or seek my intervention? '
'That's not fair ', she said with a frown, ' This church is the warmest amongst all in town.'
You would say this , you're part of this crowd, but tell me how many really care about Christ.
'Christ is the one whom we celebrate, Why, Don't you see our labour so great? '
' I can't hear your carols in the din of the committee voices, the egos, the tempers, they are all loud noises.'
'You fought over what the programs should be, you didn't include everyone, even the Nazarene! '

' The manger you so carefully arranged, has left out the Saviour ', he said with pain.
She cringed with embarrasment, she couldn't deny it, it truly was a cause for disdain.

Who are you? she asked indignantly, 'I am Jesus who you left out of your manger, completely.'
' Isn't this my birthday, you so proudly celebrate, with lights and gifts and wine and cake?' ;
Yet your manger is empty and so are your hearts, for there is no room for me in whole or in part.'
'I am just a variable, changing every year...but "Xmas" is empty without Christ in it, dear.'
What He said was true, as I turned around to see, everything was about Santa and the Christmas tree.
Everyone was busy with the preparations, but Christmas isn't only about festivity and imagination,
Wasn't it just a ' show' she thought, the Christ child was not born in any one's heart.

her heart sank within her, there was a sudden lull, Christmas without the Christ child would be so dull.
Suddenly her eyes settled on a pile, tucked between festoons , was the figurine of the Christ child!
She picked it up with nimble fingers, held it up for Him to see. He smiled and said ' now Christmas is complete.'
' You will find Me but only if you seek, amid the pile of your festivities.'

Now the stage was set, the lights aglow, she turned to see Jesus but He was there no more,
but Christmas was born in her heart that day, and she knew it was no longer... a ' Show'