“SLEEPLESS…”

“Sleepless…”

From somewhere off the top of the dome …feeling under the weather leaves me thinking, eyes blinking… temperament temporarily sinking, but I ain’t shrinking. I am woven …yes, cut from a different fabric like that of a maverick, though my exterior looks average…an egghead indeed not to be confused with a dunce oh though I’ve played that card a few times definitely more than once. My aim is so far I can’t even reach it so the good Lord rather I teach it or what some folks rather say ” I preach it” Yes I’m all in my feelings you could say on this beautiful bright morning but I’ve been up all night self-expressing I’m guessing I thought faith was a fight but battling this cold made feel sort of old …so the whispers released this metaphorical manifold of times seen and or untold. Writing is not what I do somehow it is who I am …seems there is no way ’round it…if it was not I am sure by now I would have found it. When life throws me lemons I do not juice it I loose it that is right I expound it. When I think it, I ink it …all sorts of explications …from air, matter silence, or chatter it all becomes clear when a pen, pencil, or keyboard is near…erasing any hint of fear. I somehow turn sadness to cheer; gloom’s dim becomes bright via the shining of this little light. No my days aren’t all bright but they are always alright when up to bat at this faith I incessantly fight trying to make things all better in this mixed up world through varied salutations, and sometimes spiritually coerced elations …Funny, looking back even, in my dimmest of days I never much cared for sad sax blues bearing broken news …killing my muse to the point I’m ’bout to blow a fuse…yet I chill in the calm before, during, and after each storm…nestled in God’s loving arm, and right there I’m kept  away from all the coldness of this world, all comfy and warm. Don’t get me wrong ’cause if my pillows could talk there would be a lot less to say because they been soaked from the wells of my eyes…oh no did you think “she never cries”…man we must never forget how that enemy lies…life ain’t no bed of roses without counting the thorns…  I had much rather those random pricks than the gouging of the enemies horns. Oh but I know the enemy is no horned red devil…but the dishevel… seems like an excavation with each of life’s new level. C’mon, now…I ain’t got time for this…still heaven bound, swim, sink, hit and/or miss I received the invite and I’ve made reservations…but this itinerary sometimes gets scary but God don’t make junk I ain’t no punk so I study with my best buddy so these tests I won’t flunk. Yes child, plenty of access in the bosom of contradiction, which some call confusion or delusion …oh but I am positive it is merely intrusion, subtly creating affliction in the form of distractions. Math was a favorite of subjects as youth and I took well to division and methodology of fractions. As the numerator, I am always in number, the greater, and only divisible by one and HE is within. Therefore, while the enemy thinks flesh is too weak and he can always get it in…my Lord carried the cross, was bruised, wounded, and pierced and via repentance, via his healing, I have thick skin.  It is only scar tissue, I am batting a thousand  with each of your silly strikes …with my heel to your ugly head saying yikes, get behind me ol serpent full o’ greed, collecting souls  because your own you didn’t take heed. You best move around before the stampede of more soldiers at arm arrive, joined in this fight fully clothed in HIS armor…because they too are not trying to miss this soul salvation flight.

~the Messenger

Poetry written by La’Sonya Canfield 2015 | IEPM™

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“Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates (2 Corinthians 13:5 KJV)?