Cup of Tea Poetry

Quiet please...Quiet Don't move...don't breathe...make no sound Just quiet please...Please!

What joy for them that are gone! To be tucked away in the safety of His arms. No earthly vessel could ever contain The peace now shown on each little face. With the hope of their future no longer required, The final bell sounded loud and clear The Master calls roll for those He holds dear Each child assembled one by one, To be fitted for their wings... To take their new seats... In that majestic school room in the sky.

Yes I am Alive To see yet another day Praise the Most High God

Today I'm happy Not knowing what is in store Yesterday is gone

I will praise You my Lord, Though the flood rises above my chest And the waves encompass my zeal. I will praise You and keep Your name upon my lips Until my rescue land becomes my visible shield. My praise shall chase away my tears And fill my soul with diligent desire. I will praise You my God, Even when the deep waters seem my constant home. You are my God Your salvation, my steady hand. Somehow, Lord, my Lord, You keep me afloat. I will not be overtaken. I will not be encompassed. I will not be defeated. I will praise.

What are these tears? Where is my laughter? From what place has this pain arisen? This trivial throbbing, gnawing, infuriating impair in my head. It dances in and overwhelms me. Pinching off bit by bit My since of reason, normalcy, and sanity. They have real pain. They know real anguish. They create new definitions to the word devastation. But they keep going out of obligation and pride. But I, I, tremble … Breaking at the mere initiation or occurrence of sadness. Holding my tears under the eye lids And imprisoning the screams in my throat. A release would offer an insult to the bearers of valid sadness. A suitable response for my hurt would be a simple shaking of the head, But my burdensome response is fear and helplessness. I feel the need to apologize to those who’ve endured deeper cuts. Therefore I will smile and convince myself with hollow reassurances Empty promises and void wisdom… To say…I’m okay.

Gasp! How long can I hold my breath? Let’s see! Holding… …holding… …holding… Me waiting for my more is equivalent to me holding my breath. I see it. I want it. I need it. I keep telling myself to be patient, But my cheeks have extended past the point of tightness. My eyes fiercely go open and shut. My heartbeat is racing erratically. I am yielding to the point of fainting. Yet the insistent hope of my more makes the near death experience worth it.