I know the war that keeps you wary, and the burden that you carry,
and the weight that seems to tarry as you search for something more.
This road was never in your goal, but if to harness some control,
and reach a silence in your soul, perhaps you’ll wait to close the door.
I hear the constant, aching humming, and the beat that keeps on drumming,
with the flood that won’t stop coming, though you try to shut it out.
I can see the trail of tears that you trace back throughout the years,
and I can feel the sting that sears in forms of chaining, binding doubt.
It’s right to feel that it’s no use to beg these bonds to cut you loose;
they can’t provide escape or truce if they’re what keep you tied.
But pleas to God won’t go unheard, despite their murmured, shapeless slur.
You’re kept in Him; you always were—as was promised when He died.
I know at times you feel so cold, like you were never strong or bold,
but know I only want to hold you when you tell yourself these lies.
If I’m the only one who sees, who hears you whisper in the breeze,
then let me find some way to ease the tears that I see in your eyes.
Dear friend, I’ve been here before: I touched the flame that shook my core;
it left me burned, but wanting more—to see once more if I could stand.
I only wish for you to know the thoughts you battle to and fro
are mine to share, though you may go where I can scarcely reach your hand.
You’ll never face this war alone, but you don’t take the time to own
the words I wish that you had known the days when you felt weak.
Did you forget the pact we made, to never let our friendship fade?
My hand in yours, and there we stayed to let the silent moments speak.
I know, I hear, I see it all; the things you do to build your wall.
But bricks won’t catch you when you fall, and towers cave in too.
I’ve seen the loneliest of places and the absence of the faces
that have yearned to see the traces of the smile I wish for you.
What will it take; what can I say for you to know that come what may
I’ll never turn and walk away from what we fought so hard to keep?
So when the tears seep past your grip and every step becomes a slip,
rest easy; know your heart won’t rip—I’ll hold it while you sleep.
Dear friend, I’ll stay with you tonight, I’ll wrap my arms around you tight;
I’ll wait with you and look for light, through rifts that reach a thousand miles.
No inch of space I’ll leave unturned, no bridge to harm I’ll pass unburned;
I’ll cross the earth for you to learn I deeply ache to see you smile.
Cindy Green is a forest-wandering, poetry-scribbling stargazer with messy notebooks and messy thoughts. Despite her love for all of God’s creation, sunflowers and stars in particular have a way of sneaking into both her writing and her heart (but you won’t hear her complaining about it). She is an amateur sword-wielder with a Highland-dancing warrior spirit who also writes letters to the moon and considers the sky her best friend. A focused daydreamer, organized pack rat, and oblivious observer, she is a self-professing ambivert (or a living contradiction) who deeply feels both the beauty and fallen state of the world. Through her words, she hopes to describe the indescribable and form personal connections with people while reflecting a love for her Savior and a passion for everything she touches.