Resonance Disaster

Resonance Disaster

Not one tear escapes my eyes,
But everything within me cries.
My spirit longs to harmonize,
To join the song they’re singing.

I fight against the old desire;
Doubt suffocates the rising fire—
Go back to sleep, oh harp and lyre!
To truth alone I’m clinging.

My spirit rises up again.
This is the truth—Love has to win!
Just open up and let Him in,
This God who has pursued us.

My mind escapes from love’s delusion—
This is the gospel of confusion.
The love of God is an illusion;
It is a kiss of Judas.

My heart revives—But this is my song!
Your logic is sound, but I think you’re still wrong.
When I hear him calling, I know I belong;
I resonate with the voice of my master.

But heart, don’t forget—this resonance kills.
Remember wine glasses and singers’ loud shrills.
You vibrate in synchrony; you tremble with chills,
Then you shatter in resonance disaster.

My heart is dejected—I can’t say much more.
I’ve lost every battle; I’m losing the war.
But if He died for me—if my burdens He bore,
Maybe I’m meant to be shattered.

Oh idiot heart, you’ve become far too weak.
You’re fooling yourself if it’s truth that you seek.
You’re ignoring the wisdom you know that I speak,
Like a woman, beaten and battered.

Remember, heart, your dignity.
Take up your arms and fight for me.
Reclaim your identity
With the common sense that frees us.

Quiet now, mind—I lay down my will.
The call has resounded; I cannot be still.
Disastrous resonance will break me until
All they see is Jesus.

[Image credit: © Frenzel | – Loud Music Can Cause Damage – Studio Shot Photo]


19 thoughts on “Resonance Disaster

  1. I could almost hear the breaking. My heart and mind are in this battle along with yours. I wish I could give a balm to soothe, or even just a word of real comfort. I have neither.


  2. The looming disaster is so palpable here. The dissonance is so unbearable, and it gets to breaking point before you finally admit that you have to get as far from this religion as you possibly can. Truly poignant!


    • I’m definitely at the breaking point. Not yet at the running away as fast as I can point. Surely that would be more comfortable than the breaking point?—at least I could be headed toward something.


      • It’s the not feeling like you’re headed towards something bit that has always tripped me up too. Even now it’s as if I’m wandering (and wondering) in a wilderness of thorns. Having said that, with each passing day my resolve does grow. Even if just a smidgen. What you’re going through is hard. Very hard. I feel as if all of us here need each other for moral support. I know I do.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Silly me, I didn’t recognize the alternating italics until I read it 3 times, and that made things quite a bit clearer. Very powerful, which is what poetry is great for.

    This reminds me a little of what I went through when I left the church. Maybe it’s different than you, but I’d like to share it nonetheless. Hopefully it helps you and perhaps helps others as well.

    I sometimes wonder if it is similar to grieving over a loved one who has past away. But it has complexities involved though that make it different. I wasn’t sure whether or not the one I had thought loved me perfectly even existed, or if perhaps some other version of the one I had loved was out there waiting for me.

    It felt like being in a complex maze of dark tunnels. I spent time with Bahai’s, Mormons and Unitarian Universalists searching desperately for an exit from the dark tunnels to find light (no, not the light of an oncoming train – there was no way they could make it through that vast expanse of the maze I was in). Sure I wanted truth to be part of the light, but I wanted peace and contentment as well no matter what that truth ended up looking like to me.

    I met a lot of different people during that time, and I’m so glad I did. Some of them were stuck in the tunnels without a light just like me and it helped to know others were there right along with me. Others came to visit and stay with me even though they had found their exit from the maze, and I was so grateful for that. Some of those people recognized much like I do now that there are many different exits and because we are all different in so many ways the light that works for each of us is different. Some involve a belief in Jesus, some Krishna, some are more down to earth, etc. There were others who felt like their light was the only one that could work for everyone. I still listened.

    And then there were those who seemed to like to take their light and shine it right in my eyes without me asking until my eyes were temporarily blinded. I have never found a place in my heart for people like that, but perhaps you can. There were others who liked to carefully show me how their light worked and I really appreciated those. Then there were others who kept their light in their pocket until I asked if I could learn about it. I liked those even more, and learned to ask them more often because I knew they loved to help. And finally there were those who kept their light in their pocket and refused to talk about it ever. I appreciated them as well because I could hang out with them and simply enjoy their friendship (one lives right next door to me).

    I also learned that nobody’s light is perfect. Oh some think theirs is for sure, but often those are the ones who are less content. It’s kind of like those new traffic lights that have tiny little LED’s in them – there always seems to be some LED’s that are broken, some more than others. Perhaps there is some perfect light source out there somewhere, but even if that’s the case there always seems to be some interference.

    I slowly found my light even though it wasn’t very bright at first. The most wonderful thing I found was that there were some who were perfectly fine that my light was very different from theirs and they still loved spending time with me at my exit of the maze even though they lived at another exit. I sincerely hope you find a lot of those people J.

    It’s not just the fact that I’ve found my own place that I know you will be fine. It’s because I know that there are so many exits out of the maze that I can think positively for you. Even if there are times J where you cannot find it in yourself to be positive at least know there are others who can be positive for you. Perhaps you’ve already found your light but it flickers right now. I’m not sure, but I look forward to a bright future for you!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Just a quick clarification which I may have missed. I don’t believe in many truths like some post-modernists – I believe there is one truth about reality (many pieces of which I likely have wrong), but many different paths to peace and contentment.


    • I am definitely the flickering light! But I’m so grateful for all of you who share yours—in such a humble way. Thanks so much for this, Howie.

      And sorry about the unclear formatting—my theme doesn’t differentiate well between regular and italics words. I should have used different fonts or something! Thanks for reading so many times to try to understand!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Ah, that explains the italics thing. They show up really nicely in my wordpress reader and that’s where I read it the 3rd time right before I commented, because I try to comment more often now from my wordpress reader.


    • Thank you so much, my friend. No matter where I am in all of this, I’m fine because I know I’m not alone. A year ago I didn’t feel that way. Another life saved by social media ;).


  4. I can very easily relate to the back on forth nature here. The head says “there is no god”, while the heart still either sees, or wants there, to be a God in charge out there. I know that is where I am at right now, too. Hope we can figure this out.


    • Me too, Gakeat!

      Do you have a blog I can follow? I like to get to know my interlocutors here as much as possible—especially those who have had or are having this same struggle. Let me know if there’s somewhere I can read more of your story!


  5. Wow. I can’t believe I’m married to you. In addition to writing so eloquently and meaningfully about what we’re both going through, you managed to weave in some nerdy engineering terms. I. Love. You. You read it to me the other day, but this is the first time I read it on screen. The perfection of this poem is only surpassed by your beauty.

    Liked by 1 person

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