56
POEM
Real eyes
By Katy Holbird
Today, Lord, I ask that you would open my eyes.
My real eyes.
By this I do not mean these lids that close whilst I sleep
and wake, weak in the light;
That observe the fracture of disturbed water
but cannot make form from the dark beneath.
I mean, Lord, my heart’s eyes.
Give me the sight today to take the ordinary and make it shine:
Not to dismiss the desert bush, burning
unimpressive in the heat.
Or douse with cynicism the branches, the strangers,
the creation
from which you call.
I ask, Lord, that I would see through the ridiculous,
the repetitive,
that which makes my waking eyes roll.
Give me the vision to doggedly circle solid walls of doubt,
seeing nothing but your promise
if not your purpose.
In the inconvenience of interruption
would you train my eyes to the angel on hand
bringing your plans into the day that
– after all – you have made;
the outsider outplayed on the roadside;
the woman waiting for words that only I can say.
Today, Lord, I ask you to open my eyes to the way that you see.
Today, Lord, I ask you to open the eyes of my heart.
LWPT8462 - Preach Magazine - Issue 2 v2.indd 56
Photo: Katy Holbird
My real eyes.
My heart’s eyes.
09/01/2015 14:36:23