By: Cordell Mitchell Jr. (626-233)
AKA #Poetry’s Heartbeat
“White walls;
Empty, yet full of history.
Unable to speak-
But witnesses to what we can’t see;
From the outside looking in…
Next to a window pane;
I see scars from your past pain;
That strains to be revealed
From under this thick layer of white paint.
Or was it blue underneath?
Or even cream
Or a soft gray?
Hiding the core essence
Of everything you would have to say…
If you could only speak…
Mysteries unleashed;
In the middle of where all four meet…
Alone to just think;
And think;
Behind these white walls…
You have heard the biggest lies told;
Also the hardest truths revealed;
You’ve closed in on countless
And also burst many pipes
Eliminating secrets
That people tried so hard to conceal…
You see the real them…
Us… He… She…
Some have the form of godliness
But you see who really worships He…
The creator of those who so intricately
Constructed these
And their own
White walls…
Orchestrated for protection;
However dealing cold isolation;
In some cases,
Used to keep you complacent;
But the strong use it for elevation;
Physically…
Mentally…
And emotionally…
Seeing straight through;
These white walls.
Potentially unlimited;
I see the walls of my imprisonment;
Now pictures form vividly;
And it is
In deed
Who the Son sets free…
Rolling…
To my destiny…
From road to road;
Cadillac 1958;
White wall tires
With “I Love Christ”
On my license plates.
Top chopped off With the Blood of Jesus
Coloring on my seats.
Imagining everywhere
I desire for God to take me…
Then my eyes wander
And I see the corner…
Uniquely crafted
For the white walls to stand…
Just like me;
I rise everytime I can.
Even when there’s a spider
With webs that it has conjured up.
Trusting…
Fully persuaded…
On God’s Word;
I’m still standing up.
Be strong in the Lord…
Get Up!
Quit sitting on your worth…
And let the redeemed of the Lord
Say “SO”…
I praise God’s name…
You pick me up
Everytime I fall…
I thank you;
For bringing it all back to my remembrance
As I get ready to leave
These white walls…”