to let my arms pop up

that step of faith remains buried
it's like all that stuff i did
that i wish i didn't
and i hide it away,
in fear of what will come
if it is unearthed

it's down so deep
and freedom is just beyond reach,
and all i have to do is dig it out,
but what if...
and every time the what if's come
it is buried just a little more
and i am reminded the hard part
is taking that step
that once i do,
God moves,
like moses
who had to raise his arms,
God parted the red sea,
and i wonder if he was like me,
frightened about what would happen
if he took that step
of faith,
if he raised his arms,
because he knew he had to,
but maybe that faith was so deep,
so deep,
he had to reach inside himself and pull it out,
rummage around inside,
through the junk, the sin, the fear,
the pain, the trial and error,
until finally he grabbed hold of it,
and up popped his arms,
and God said,
there we go,
and the sea parted...

so here i am,
and i've found quite a bit i want to forget,
but i think i've almost found that faith,
i feel it in my hands,
i think my arms are starting to pop up...

(this is a repost, been a bit sick still, but wanting to pop in and say hello)


  1. Hello. So where are your arms now?

  2. oh they're up... it's always a struggle to keep them there, but they're up.