bursting forth in glorious day

beyond the heaps of concrete, metal:
a spot in the sand.
to wait.

it's cold and the wind
gently blows the top layer of sand
past us.

broken shells tossed and turned
for thousands of years.
is this what i am to You?

i shiver and become restless,
but despite myself,
You come still.

bursting forth in glorious day.



my feeble attempt at poetry from this weekend. sarah and i woke up at 6:30 and walked out to the beach to watch the sun rise. it was freeeeezing, mostly because the wind was blowing like a g. which was whipping the top layer of sand down the beach. and i couldn't help but think of how those miniscule, tumbling, broken shells must remind God of us, being tossed about by every turn of events. but then the Sun burst forth and i was reminded that tumbling is not my destiny.