The Word for Writers
My Closet
A full moon climbed
furiously, but so slowly
over the mountainous horizon,
determined to be
a silvery beacon
to the starlit night.
The sun set across the river,
spraying orange
over dark blue-green,
sparkling
upon the dancing caps.
I sat with my bare feet
upon a rock,
closeting my innermost thoughts
to send them
soaring heavenward.
It was there
that I cried out
for you, Zion,
not knowing from whence
the river of tears came
but for God’s own love
for you stirring my soul
to intercessory prayer.
There is my closet,
even in the great
wide open spaces
at midday
or evening,
or in the comfort
of my bedroom
at dawn.
I carry it with me
wherever I go.
At times
the air is thick,
heavy,
and dark.
It leaves me gasping
for breath.
Anything at all
the enemy can try,
he will,
just to hold my prayers
at bay.
Yet, it is
with one simple
but profound word
that I find myself
no longer alone
or defeated there:
“Jesus.”
And Jesus,
the Word,
comes through
as a whisper,
a whisper loud
and clear.
Whatever I’ve taken there,
whether in my hands,
in my heart,
or on my mind,
becomes suddenly dim
and peace
bathes me
in its pure and holy
light.
I am a writer.
I have written
a multitude of things,
some good,
some poor,
some great,
some small.
It’s just who I am,
who I was born to be.
But my greatest of prayers
are neither read
nor are they
heard,
save but for God’s ear
alone.
They are exclusively
fit for me,
as are the shoes
I remove from my
tiny, but beautiful
feet
before I step
into that holy ground ...
my closet.
Those shoes left
outside my closet door
fit feet
that may well be
no bigger than a child’s,
but they serve me well,
as I serve Christ.
They don’t look like much.
But then again,
neither does
my closet
to the carnal eye.
Zion,
oh Beloved Zion,
it is true;
Thy God reigneth!
© Joyce Pool
Matthew 6:6 But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.
Isaiah 52:7 How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!
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are neither read
nor are they
heard,
save but for God’s ear
alone.
Treava, the whole thing is just wonderful, but the quote above stood out real tall for me. There are so many conversations and prayers I have that are just for God's ears. Thank you for delighting us with this posting.
Thomas
Julia
nor are they heard, save but for God’s ear alone." TO GOD BE THE GLORY! May we all seek to have that goal - for our prayers to reach God's ear! With love, Peggy
God bless, Joyce