Ice crystals of fear
at the edges of my heart,
a cold chill blows through me;
the heavy burden of sorrow
snows down, thick, relentless,
numbed and blinded by storm after storm,
I, brittle, snap and break.
Turned away from You is darkness that freezes and smothers;
turning toward You is light that grows warmer and warmer
as I re-turn to the fullness of Your gaze upon me.
You fill me with Your presence,
ice thaws, snow melts,
I am dripping with relief,
running over with the flood of peace
that streams and pools and swells,
saturating the frozen ground of my mind,
softening the hardening pain of my heart
to yield to love
transformed from what kills without You
to what carries and sustains life with You;
dormant seeds of courage and faith
awaken, watered by sorrows melted into strength,
as hope blossoms across the landscape of my life.
Note: This poem is a preview to a reflection coming in Lent, as part of a series on prayer. Follow my blog (if you haven’t already) to receive the new reflections in your inbox.
© 2022 Christina Chase
Although crippled by disease, I'm fully alive in love. I write about the terrible beauty and sacred wonder of life, while living with physical disability and severe dependency. A revert to the Catholic faith through atheism, I'm not afraid to ask life's big questions. I explore what it means to be fully human through my weekly blog and have written a book: It's Good to Be Here, published by Sophia Institute Press.