Crushing Crosses Into Crowns
A poem by Kenny Green
I was born with afflictions a few flaws.
Though I kept on going no matter the cost.
I figured I owed my auntie Eva.
Or maybe some God if he thought of me either.
Then life became to heavy, and it began to get me down.
My divine regal bearing slipped, I lost my crown.
Swallowed up by pain, the past, and health circumstance.
God sent help mate a love I sometimes never gave a chance.
I asked God why, why I would accept this gift.
I used to joke, I was on dope in Kolob when they passed out assignments.
There was no way in hell I’d choose to live this life.
Give me angels wings for one thousand, why choose this strife.
Been studying in the scriptures about the vinedresser.
Making delicious concoctions that’s with none the lessor.
Wine is only made after a seed enters ground.
It has to die in the dirt or it’s potentials bound.
And once the seed dies the water pours down and begins to give new life.
The grape it blooms and is picked by the vinemans knife.
Pressed into wine it sometimes has to sit in a vat.
And wait for years until the vinedresser sticks in that tap.
The sip is tasted and the vinepresser smiles for he knows just what he’s made.
Crosses crushed into crowns, his children now strong, mighty and eternal they now are unafraid.
I’m still in my crushing process so I’m often still weak.
Understanding, strength, and knowledge are things that I seek.
I grasp at things like a blind man stumbling in a dark.
I cry tears of agony and pain, I shout and exclaim, still sometimes alone I remain.
I would never condescend my God down on my level.
But Jesus Christ felt all these things on a worse level.
But the honest truth is that he did these things to succor us.
So now I can only do one thing and that’s shut up and trust.