Battle for the Heart

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 As the battle for my heart rages 

I re-embark but get off to a frozen start It’s plagued me as consistently as a broken heart 

So bizarre, stomach twisted from a broken shard 

Still, not one tear appeared, it was close but no cigar 

I turn over to a blank page 

No longer phased by a blind rage 

Highly engaged in the word to uncover what the truth brings 

Revelation inspires to organize my thoughts in the blue ink 

I steady my mind in the vision of the blueprint 

Concentrate deeply to retrace the impressions of my shoe prints 

No need to rub it in, I know the rubber on my soul’s worn thin, yet I’m still standing 

I thought I was capsized and abandoned 

But by the grace of God I was simply baptized in anguish 

You didn't ask, but yet I’m tasked to share the blessings I’ve sowed 

My Spirit, my essence, my soul 

Maybe it’s the Irish in me that inclines me to suffer alone

But the origin is insignificant, truth is it’s an individual pace 

Feelings of minimal grace I navigate between yin and yang, the duality of man 

The ability to create new realities in hand, building up from the ashes 

That’s what my past is evidently, the evidence agrees 

A series of hurt and rebirth that I so avidly 

Pursued, especially in the aftermath of tragedy 

What ensues is reflection on when the smiles stopped, hesitantly 

A divorce from an alternative course, skip the pleasantries 

And straight to throwing salt in the wounds 

As if you dropped an H Bomb and then assaulted the ruins 

As the battle for my heart rages, I find hope in the blessings 

As I seek to widen the scope of the lessons 

Rebirth is the message  

When the agony leads to perfection, the dichotomy of the resurrection 

Which changed the direction of mankind and empowered the bold 

In a battle for the soul 

A battle to control our perceptions 

Uncover what you already know and blow your theories apart 

Ask the origin of assumptions that would be a serious start 

Consider he who endured such opposition from sinners 

So that you would not grow weary and lose heart

Ignite the true spark subdue the dark till powerless 

Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us 

Fixing our eyes on the light, life catapulted to new heights 

But remember who lifted us 

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses 

Let us throw off everything that hinders us 

And the sin that so easily entangles 

Mangled by the unmanageable 

Worn thin, I say “no deal” to a snared grin 

Still wrestling for a win 

Despite the losses that sting like cold steel on bare skin 

When life grinds you into a pulp 

He says I’ll come find you in amongst 

The Rubble 

No fear I meek the struggle while I seek the faith that reaps the wonder 

Embody the meek in the sense of what I speak is humble 

Clench my teeth with hunger 

That is, the desire to walk with God up the creek with numbers 

By the wisdom of the book that speaks like thunder 

Absorb the chaos and speak order in the chorus 

Our foundation is porous, we cannot ignore the source 

At our own peril of course 

Distill with discourse, destroy the ego with force 

Entrenched in the vision because when I pray he listens 

I put my pain on this rhythm, lay my shame on his wisdom 

Until the day he lifts me away to the kingdom 

Thenceforth we preach to reach the nocturnal 

What we seek is not external 

But to face the internal not so obsessed with less turmoil 

Because he brought a sword to bless your burdens,

the tests and hurdles through the verbal, waist girded with Truth 

As you shall know them by their Fruits

They walk in the Gospel of peace shod like steel on their boots 

So pick up your shield of Faith in protecting our roots 

Eyes focused fiercely through your helmet no longer salvation bereft 

Everywhere is the temple, we are not reserving Sunday for our best 

Every day is game day, march with righteousness like armor strapped to our chest 

Even when we’ve fallen upon our deepest pain 

Carried with the rains over trees of flames 

Shouldering the coldest loss, that which seems to be in vain 

Still we proclaim our victory is in Jesus’ name 

For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame 

And sat down at the right hand of the throne of God 

So if the Glory is pain we are left with a story that explains a home in which we belong.

J.P. Walsh 

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