Poetry Madness Round 1: Countee Cullen

To John Keats, Poet, at Spring Time

I cannot hold my peace, John Keats; 
There never was a spring like this; 
It is an echo, that repeats 
My last year's song and next year's bliss. 
I know, in spite of all men say 
Of Beauty, you have felt her most. 
Yea, even in your grave her way 
Is laid. Poor, troubled, lyric ghost, 
Spring never was so fair and dear 
As Beauty makes her seem this year. 

I cannot hold my peace, John Keats, 
I am as helpless in the toil 
Of Spring as any lamb that bleats 
To feel the solid earth recoil 
Beneath his puny legs. Spring beats 
her tocsin call to those who love her, 
And lo! the dogwood petals cover 
Her breast with drifts of snow, and sleek 
White gulls fly screaming to her, and hover 
About her shoulders, and kiss her cheek, 
While white and purple lilacs muster 
A strength that bears them to a cluster 
Of color and odor; for her sake 
All things that slept are now awake. 

And you and I, shall we lie still, 
John Keats, while Beauty summons us? 
Somehow I feel your sensitive will 
Is pulsing up some tremulous 
Sap road of a maple tree, whose leaves 
Grow music as they grow, since your 
Wild voice is in them, a harp that grieves 
For life that opens death's dark door. 
Though dust, your fingers still can push 
The Vision Splendid to a birth, 
Though now they work as grass in the hush 
Of the night on the broad sweet page of the earth. 

'John Keats is dead,' they say, but I 
Who hear your full insistent cry 
In bud and blossom, leaf and tree, 
Know John Keats still writes poetry. 
And while my head is earthward bowed 
To read new life sprung from your shroud, 
Folks seeing me must think it strange 
That merely spring should so derange 
My mind. They do not know that you, 
John Keats, keep revel with me, too. 

Walk in my Shoes

Today I took a walk. Well, I drove for part of it, since the spots I wanted to go were neither connected by footpath or close enough to walk to from my house. And I brought Zac with me. I know we were supposed to be "alone" for this thing...but we were already doing a Bible study at Starbucks together anyway (plus, he functions as my GPS). So here are my pictures and my reflections.

Only when we are quiet and still
will we capture the moment 
our eyes search for.

We are clumsy and rackety, crunching leaves beneath our feet, snapping twigs we don't care to see. We speak clamorously of things we'd like to find, missing the very things we're meant to look for. Only when we are quiet and still will we capture the moment our eyes search for. In our rambunctious clatter of feet moving swiftly, we forget to stop and stare in awe of the perpetual beauty of the world God created for us.

This outward skin protects the heart.

The bark on the tree is all we can see. It may bear the scars of a lover's pocket knife from years ago, the couple having long since broken off. It may be rough to the touch, having weathered storms too numerous to count. It may have things pinned to it, searching for a valuable loss. But this outward skin protects the heart, a thing apart from the outward influences. This is the part God wants of us. Our skin may bear scars, marks, and labels the world pins on us, but God wants what's underneath all that.

Life goes on, even when you're in the thick
 of it.

 Personally, remembering where I came from can be the most beneficial thing when I look forward into what my future  could hold. I know things now that I was too naive to realize  as a child, even when I played in the midst of them. When I  return to my old stomping grounds, I remember where I came  from and what experiences shaped me into who I am today. I  remember the drama I thought was devastating, and I smile, knowing life goes on, even when you're in the thick of it. 

  

This picture has been here my whole life.
I just needed to zoom out.

The details of life can become overwhelming sometimes, especially when your future is all that's on your mind. Today, I realized that I need to take a step back and just watch God do his thing. I don't need to worry about the little details, because God is a God who cares and who can handle it. The big picture of what he is doing is so far beyond what I can do, all I can do is sit back and look at the vast picture he has painted in front of me. The thing is, this picture has been here my whole life. I just needed to zoom out.

Every person leaves a mark on the world.

Although I can't quite make out what the markings on the back of the bench mean, this picture makes me think of all the times I've wished I was notable. I wanted to leave a mark, something tangible and meaningful, something that everyone appreciated. There have been so many times that I felt insignificant, like no one saw me or what I was trying to be. It was here that I realized this: every person leaves a mark on the world. Every person is notable in their own way, and while not everyone will see that, those who do will appreciate it on a deeper level.