Tonight, I sat at the kitchen table hoping and praying for God to give me the words for a poem. Three days ago, I felt him nudging me about writing a poem on the power of our tongue. For those of you who write poetry, you know that you can’t just write a poem. The words have to come to you. You have to feel the words and the rhythm. Then, after they come to you, you have to write them down before they’re gone.
I sat and waited, and God delivered.
The Flow of the Tongue
It’s our mouths we can’t control.
Full of poison, can’t make us whole.
Giving the cursing and the blessing,
Giving our faith for sure a testing.
Filled with bitter and the sweet.
Asking for life for us to repeat.
Setting on fire the pit of hell.
Sharing the gospel that it entails.
Filling with power, and hate, and love.
Edifies sisters and brothers from above.
Knowing that it is one of our members.
Showing our grace, our warmth, our tenders.
Death and life are in the power of the tongue,
And those who love it will eat its fruit.
And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity. The tongue is so set among our members that it defiles the whole body, and sets on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire by hell. 7 For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and creature of the sea, is tamed and has been tamed by mankind. 8 But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. 9 With it we bless our God and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the similitude of God. 10 Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be so. 11 Does a spring send forth fresh water and bitter from the same opening? 12 Can a fig tree, my brethren, bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Thus no spring yields both salt water and fresh. James 3: 6-12, NKJV