Inspiration is a strange thing, ethereal and ephemeral, often inexplicable.
Words cab ebb and flow like the tide:sometimes a tsunami of them stirs the depths, at others a slight swell sweeps the sand.
A mere hint or whisper of their presence, a gentle trickle waiting to become a surging sea.
A book, a song, a scent or sight all add up to things which awaken the artist within.
Words sing into our ears from various sources as God whispers:”Look.. listen.. pay attention.”
I’ve found that when I allow space for silence and room for reading more of what feeds my soul, then I increase my ability to hear from Him.
Those words I receive dance in my heart, find a home in my soul, resonate in my spirit, fire my imagination and inspire my thinking.
Such is the case when I see the word for ‘Five Minute Friday’, pause a bit to ponder and pray and then write out what I’m hearing.
The poem below was birthed in this way. It may have taken a bit more than the allotted five minutes to write because sometimes we are so in the flow it feels impossible to stop, yes?
So here is my best poetic heart offering on the word ‘Rise’. I am joining Kate and fellow fearless Five Minute Friday writers today for this great creative writing exercise where we pour out our imperfect words like water and share them in encouraging community.
And if your creative spark feels dim or words lie irretrievably stuck like a stagnant pond? Maybe God is calling you to rest, relax, let go and be open to their arrival at a time of His choosing.
For we often need periods of pulling back to become refuelled and refreshed before we can enter the stream of writing again. Rest assured they will return soon; words will rise reliable as the tide.
Words rise in my head
Spilling from the heart
Aching to be shared
Longing to be heard
Seeking to be said
And I pause a while
Because unless they
are inspired by God’s grace
then my words will fail,
fall flat upon the page,
be lifeless, dull and pale
When God’s vital, energising spark
ignites deep into my soul
flames spread, rise higher
as a gathering heat and fire
And I know, despite my own
weakness, emptiness and lack
I cannot refrain; despite sting
of shame, I cannot even try
to stem the tide, hold back
They flow easy like water
running over stone
And reach the shores
of another’s heart
where they rise to find
a welcome and a home