Skip to main content

Intercessor

- Megan -

Intercessor

I remember when I was falling, like they do now,

Now I fly, on the wings of my Father

But look, Lord – She's still falling

You carry me Lord, why not him? Won't you rescue her too?

They cry out, begging me to catch them,

But turn a blind eye when I point to their Maker

How, Lord, can I make this work?

I ask her, I tell him. I knock at their doors

I beg my Father to show them the light,

But no response comes from either side.

I have to do something – they continue to fall

I worry and fret, I can't just let them go!

I trust in my own strength, I reach in to grab her,

But he doesn't start flying, and now I'm tumbling too

I've filled my heart with their problems, now I can't hold on to Him

I cry out just like they do, and my Maker comes again

He's taught me a lesson, and now I have learned

That it isn't my job, to carry their load

The I AM is the one who carries the world

And as the Father pulls me back under His wing

I learn again to trust only Him

He knows what He's doing, even if it seems wrong to my eyes

And though they're still falling, I know now how to help

I keep myself planted in the One Who Holds me,

And I reach out through my prayers and my words

I don't stop trying to help, I just know now how to do it

I'm just the Intercessor, as Moses was

I speak His words to her, or pray to Him on his behalf

But it's up to Him to save her, He can carry her

And someday, I pray, if it is His will,

They will fly with me, fly home forever

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

If You're Like Most People...

If you're like most people, you probably don't hate that phrase as much as I do. This is mainly because I overthink things. It's something I do a lot and you will therefore be seeing a lot of it in my contributions to this blog. Actually, come to think of it, overthinking is something pretty much all of us have in common in the Writing Mafia, so you can just expect it all the time from all of us. You're welcome.  Anyway, back to 'If you're like most people...'. This phrase wouldn't bother me if people actually meant it. But they don't. They don't mean 'If you're like most people...', they mean, 'If you're like most people who are like me... ' Because let me tell you something, most people - as in, the majority of the human population of the planet - are living either under the poverty line or hovering dangerously close to it, have minimal education and don't understand this rant or anyone who says that most hate...

Colors

I watched my daughter's sightless eyes close as I pulled her blanket around her tiny body. Even as she drifted into sleep, her smile tried desperately to rid my face of its scowl. The white men had done this to my Amika. They brought the disease that left her weak and blind. They brought the weapons that killed my father. They brought the culture that destroyed mine. They forced me away from everything I knew, they starved my family, they took away my reason to live, they broke my spirit. They left me in this cursed land in a tiny shack with nothing but my blind daughter. I, Malik, can never forgive them. I, Malik, will pay them back. I pulled the new bracelet off her thin little hand. "It feels just like my Cherokee beads, Papa," her innocent voice had said. The African beads from our slave girl Naira did indeed look similar to the Cherokee beads in Amika's hair. I had tried to take them from her earlier, but the confused and hurt look in her blind eyes stop...

Strange One

An unsteady little fox kit blinked, opening her eyes she wobbled after her siblings. Taking her first steps outside the den, watching the others do the same. Their brown-black eyes gleamed in the light. Most of the other fox kits were playing, a tangled mess of dark brown fur and legs as they tumbled, chasing each other around mossy rocks and through short green grass. Some of the older foxes were lounging, gathered around a small circle of rocks. The fox kit stumbled over, her legs still not quite used to the rough ground. The circle smelled fresh, soaked in the scent of damp earth; something clear and silvery-blue filled the hole in the ground. She leaned towards it, trying to get a better look, paws scrambling for purchase on the smooth slippery stones. With no success, her paws slipped, sending her tumbling down into the pool of clear liquid. It was only water. But she didn't know that then. She landed with a splash, the liquid soaking her coat and making her shiver. S...