“CUTTY SARK” painting by Paul M. Kruemcke (my beloved grandfather “Papa”) Circa 1966
“And I’m bleeding, and I’m bleeding, and I’m bleeding
Right before the Lord
All the words are gonna bleed from me
And I will think no more” – The White Stripes, Seven Nation Army
like the ocean when you are standing at the end of the world
right about to fall off the edge.
Just when you think you’ve run out of sea
the world becomes round and look!
More to say.
More to think.
More to write.
Units of communication,
transfused into us by our Creator.
On the waters of written language
The world takes passage in order to think.
Thought-provoking words inspire
ignite and set into motion
Kingdoms, governments and laws.
I write in order to unthink.
Unable (unwilling) to tourniquet the thoughts
with substance or busy-ness or logic,
the flow commences with a single prayer,
“Lord, give me the words.
And lend me Your strength to bleed them.”
Words, woven together
one pitifully weak and thin thread at a time.
One narrow thread of thought,
meaningless by itself,
white with a memory of bliss until it bleeds from the loom pink,
and then red with heartache.
Keep weaving until the thread changes to the blues of struggle
and the yellows of rejoicing,
and a million shades in between.
thread by thread
word by word
becomes a sail.
Patched when torn
woven with those glorious words
for which God gives us with generous abundance.
Which God reminds us to use carefully.
To choose carefully.
To bleed wisely and weave gloriously.
Under the wind of His grace…
To sail upon.