excerpt from a prayer, Feb
where I have lost my hunger
trading it for a sophisticated faith
God give me both, or just the former
where I have lost my tenderness
trading it for the long abiding
God give me both
where I have lost a longing for your nearness
trading it for discipline and strategy
God give me both
where I have lost my humility
trading it for lowered expectations
God give me the former
where I have lost my tears
trading them for reason
God give me both
where I have lost the ardor of my first love
trading it for something I might call realism
God return to me the former
—ZW
“but this I have against you—that you have abandoned your first love”
- from the book of Unveiling*
this passage has stayed with me for many years… I could say “has haunted me”, but then that would cast the wrong light on a verse that has really been a guiding thought across decades. hopefully, we learn and grow wiser over time. hopefully we are not the same person we were when we started. but sometimes, hidden in our immaturity and the awkwardness of young love, there is a profound wisdom—a wisdom that shouldn’t be cast aside as we expand our understanding and grow in our character through our lives.
it was this idea my poetic meditation grew up out of.
you are better at some things than you used to be. wiser. hopefully kinder. and if you have a few more wrinkles, then perhaps they helped you release some of that surface judgement to see beyond what first greets the eye. for others and for yourself… it probably hasn’t always been a straight journey, and that’s okay…
some first love reflection questions—
when you look back across the years, what do you miss about yourself?
when do remember feeling truly alive?
when did you feel/understand/live within the deep love of God for you?
what used to be dear to you?
what did you spend your time on back then?
how were you different?
give it some thought. and maybe let old you/young you/little you remind now you of some things you used to know... maybe some things you could go rescue and bring into now.
the passage continues: “remember how far you have fallen! change—do the things you did at first…”
I consider this an invitation. remembering as invitation. while we are living we are not cut off from it…
Other poems I’ve shared:
attempted contemplation at the breakfast table | MORNING
cup / path / song / house | MORNING
God and the guest room | EVENING
I wonder if ever a buffalo | MIDDAY
instead of / why not | MORNING
morning translation | MORNING
San Antonio, Dec 2 | MORNING
taking her for granted | LOVE
the darkest night of the year | EVENING
the first page | MORNING
tidal | LOVE
thanks for being here! I write weekly sharing poetry, songs, musings, thoughts on creative life, and hopefully some encouragement… the poems are from my first collection of poetry called Snowmelt to Roots, and you can get them at my shop, on Amazon or on B&N.
cheers,
Z
ps—the * was to denote that “unveiling” is one way to translate the Greek name for the book, Apokalypsis ;)