Rediscovered this old, poor recording of mine, of poem turned spoken word.. by now this would be more appropriately titled ‘309 days’ ago (or so).  We’re always fluctuating, gaining and receding like the tides, when the water’s low and the seabed’s dry, don’t let it be any indication that we’ll always stay that way because we won’t always stay this way. And God’s too good to give up on us..
—-

83 Days-
I read the words I wrote once, once I believe was 83 days ago, or so,
when your wind whistled tunes meant only for me, for only I could hear that
brilliant symphony
83 days ago, or so,
I walked through the grocery store and I swore I wasn’t me, but you
you were really me,
you were really inside my footsteps, not my footsteps anymore
but the pace of heavens heartbeat
I read the words I wrote once, once one Sunday
when I did all I could to keep myself from jumping in front of the choir to declare,
“He is so much better than what you sing about and He is so much sweeter than what we talk about here.
I know.”
I know because 83 days ago or so,
I knew that I knew that You lived in my veins and my only worry was that they were too narrow to contain
You glory.
That the abundance of Your presence would somehow bring me to Your pearly gates too early
It was only 83 days ago or so
Your Son beamed through my teeth and people stopped to ask me, “How did you get this way, your heart so lively?”
“He’s the colour your eyes search to see, how we can’t explain the depths of space or map the movement of the sea,
He’s the laugh you share with a friend and the power of grace to save both you and them,
He’s death and rebirth
He’s the removal of a veil
He’s warmth in a held hand
the Captain, wind and sail.”
I’m remembering as I read the words from 83 days ago, how
I didn’t pray, each breath exuded prayer
and gratitude
I didn’t preach, my eyes screamed of Your possibility
I didn’t debate, Your truths to precious to waste
I didn’t study, You taught me everything in skies and lakes
I didn’t “make time for You”, You were each second that I lived
I didn’t have to point Heavenward,
Heaven bled out of every cell, glance and word
And everyone wanted a part
A sweet plagiarism, you shared the diction of your lips
and made my mouth move in congruence to tell of your faithfulness
My beauty was pockmarked but I still had the courage to say
That You still saw it all as Good, for we are all still made.
And that was 83 days ago,
Call it cynicism, but it’s hard to gaze on goodness forever
When doubt is a friendly enemy, and stands more eager than my endeavors
I can’t remember save these words I’ve written,
The feeling I used to sing about, off key, cleaning my bathtub
And the way I spewed utterances in languages angels dream up
that was 83 days too long ago.
It’s easier today at my desk to study, and write down words that mean nothing
It’s easier to talk about You now, and map You down to conceptions
Of what someone else once knew
And what I read in a book once
And what a preacher went through
Now I speak sentences to ask for things when I can find the time
“Lord, I need less pain, more opportunities,
..a sure sign”
I’ve learned to speak so effectively, everyone nods and understands
But no one there will ever stop to wonder at any mystery inside of them
Because now I can look past a child eyes
and not even think to see You inside
I can walk past a man sleeping in the street
and not even stop to feel my own heart beat
I don’t believe you change just like
83 days doesn’t change when the sun will rise
instead it’s the tilt of the earth that affects our time
so 83 days can’t make You less near
but 83 days have made me feel less here

And I guess this is my confession as I remember
my old strength - YOUR old strength
Timeless as the weathered ages,
Thank You for these 83 day old pages
Thank You for reminding me, remaining in my bones
Forgive me for the times that I’ve forgotten that I can always come home.

(c) Stephanie Diaz-Schumm
Song: You Are My Home - The Sleep Design