A Living Poem

One of the reasons I love poetry is because of the power it has to make ordinary language come alive in new and different ways. But of course, when I say “come alive” that’s only a poetic phrase—I don’t actually mean that poems could ever really live. Or could they?

---

A Living Poem

I wish that I could write a poem
That breathed with life—its very own
That took the meaning I wrote down
And really lived it out

That if I wrote the depths of love
The words themselves would rise above
The page and show the power of
Real love, in all its glory

And if I wrote of joy and peace
The words would run out to the streets
Reality would be unleashed
Like music fills the air

I’d write kindness, and it would go
With gentle faithfulness in tow,
And goodness, too, and self-control,
And all the world would come to know
What these words really mean

Oh Lord, when you create a poem
You breathe in life—your very own
For you alone
Can take broken humanity
And write your heart so ours will be
A living, true reality
That all the world could come to see
The beauty of your poetry