wrangled and wrinkled.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

It's not strength I seek, it's the power of the meek.

It will take a miracle, or it will take a million years...
for me to come around again.
I'll always be wrong and weak.

Love me and to the grass I go.
Cattle, and pit bulls.
Bird calls, cat calls.
Bird calls, cat calls.
Cat calls!

It's not you in the foreground, it's you...
In the back!

"Lord help me change."
"Lord I'll need what I prayed for yesterday today too."


Amanda said...

I love this poem. I actually read it the other day and didn't think about it too much. However, tonight at our little youth group meeting one of the girls in my small group talked about being meek, and this poem just popped into my head. I remembered every piece of it then, and thought, "I get it!" I hope you don't mind if I send a copy to my high school girls...I think they would love it. Good job, and thank you.

You have such a gift for writing. Please write more.

jeff said...

I don't believe you, but you can send it to them.