Poems are my Throne

It’s in poems where you let me reign,
and how I take my throne of Glory.

It’s how You put me in my place,
following Your pleasure.

And how you want me to remain,
set on what you treasure.

Because in a poem
You have this way
of slipping in,
and taking what was weary.

Of hovering where things went thin,
You’re waiting up for us
until we get to enter in.

Because just when we get over it,
and right when we would draw the line—
Pull the curtain,
call it done
and walk resigned—
You come to pour us Your new wine.

So in these poems
I will spend my days,
and in these stanzas
I’ll take my seat.

So I can risk
where the world wants me to ration.
And I can return
what has been scattered.