The Past

Tonight I went to an old journal that I kept at the end of my high school days and into college. Mostly, it was filled with poetry I had written and I am looking at my words and my old problems and seeing the person I become...stronger, but with some of the same haunting questions. Here are two of the poems I found particularly striking. Enjoy.

My selfish ways
create the boulders
I cannot climb...and who
can help me?
Fellowship is a mystical illusion
why have You forsaken me?
Where is my help?
My comfort?
My window?
I cannot fight this alone.
I only fumble to the ground
You help me get up
only to face what I wish not to see
What do I do now?
My world is a cave.
Where is my Shepard?
Where is the flock?

My knight in shining armor
my picture perfect jigsaw puzzle
which (I thought) I had all together
But the pieces didn't mesh
some were missing
some broken
some belonging to someone else's puzzle
I wanted it to be,
I love the idea more than the person
But I find myself lost
in selfish disillusion.
Maybe my eyes are lying
my heart always looking past the real
to the fiction
the sweet fiction from years past
from longing, from daydreams
What now?
I move to a new puzzle
is this the same?
I don't know what picture these pieces will make
Will it be grotesque?
or am I looking past the fiction
to the real, the fictional real
which is bitter sweet
in my calloused heart
that, with every beat,
becomes more confused.
Does he care?
Does he long for me, as I long
for my sweetheart
who never abused my gifts
except with shallow love,
the only love he knew
But the difference is just that
now there is love so rich
it dares not abuse my company
Does this one contain all the pieces
which will eternally capture
my heart, body, love
for as long as it is earth contained?