More of Jesus: Poetry by David Vaughn

I met David through the Worship Together Discussion Forum for Worship Leaders and thought it would be awesome to share some of his poetry with you all.

In the Grey Light of You
Giving (Sonnet I)
Sonnet II
Prayer for Humility

in the grey light of You

a curtain veils me from the sun
no birdsong can divide it
dogs sleep, sullen in the half-light
and beyond it is still there

and all the pages of my life
reflected now can't be rewritten
take on a somber glow
in the grey light of You

the drooping plants outside my window
branches bent by ceaseless rain
hoping still in their tenacity
for the storms to pass away

And I in my still restlessness
am one in their aspiration
to endure beyond the cloudbreak
when nothing veils me from the Son.

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Sonnet II

There is a force that drives me into dust,

That tenders me no solace from my pain.

It changes all my iron strength to rust,

And scatters it with unmerciful rain.

To reassemble in some better state

I spend all of my energy, and yet

The pieces are elusive. Seems my fate

Is reaching, grasping. Needs are never met.

I ask a greater strength, a keener eye

To order my dispersed world anew.

He smiles, and shakes His head. His breezes fly

And blow my fragments where I can't pursue.

A real peace comes as He dispels the storm.

In Him, my solid soul begins to form.

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prayer for humility

this tattered cloak i wear
is not like pride's finery,
it is not the snare
that causes the stumbling.
when i am dressed
in the rags of righteousness
i am more bejeweled
than the splendour of kings
and the riches of kingdoms
are less than the clay,
yes,
less than the worst clay.

such a mystery, that to reach One
so high,
highest,
i would be abased
below the esteem of all men.
grant me this, then,
because i can only be near
when i am low.

and let me be, always, here,
found kneeling at your footstool-
this earth-
this solid transience we squabble for,
oh
i would own nothing
but belong to you.

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Giving (Sonnet I)

The cost is not too great for one who has

Nothing to offer. I look to my past

But I could not reclaim a single day

To capture it as payment. Yet one way

Remains. But, immortality's no bribe

For one who is so tired of his tribe

And of their devices. No one here knows

How our vices' garden blooms and grows.

No one but You, no one could understand

Or tender me a solace from my pain

That leaves me drowned in guilt and sorrow's tide.

So I will take your offered nail-scarred hand.

Unlike my own, Your wounds always remain

For by them, from Your death, comes all my life.

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