Snowflakes (Nehemiah 9-10)
By: Quina
I fear my last breath will be filled with regrets
on this deathbed
lying next
to idols I chose over You
empty and excuseless
My heart is weaker than
            a dried leaf
            I crumble and think
            of Your past and present faithfulness to me
            and I am baffled by my unbelief
            this senseless
            response to pressure and stress
Even these
            precious and pure
                        fluttering down from
                                    Your hand above
                                                to mine below
            unique, glimmering
            necessarily temporary
            crafted to make me smile
            and sing with
            greater praise to You…
I see them and
            run inside, and
            tell myself I will get
            cold and wet
            run inside,
            it seems safer, yet
            Love is
            pleasure and pain
            and I run as
            an escape with my lusts
            promising me just pleasure, but
            leading me to this deathbed
            and I feel the depression set in
            pressing upon my soul
for I’ve
            locked myself in this room with
            suicidal ambitions
            fueled by lies
I’ve heard in my heart, believed, and repeated until
it seems they’ve become a part of me—
            “You will
            never be understood, so
            silence will save you
            from more pain.”
            “There’s no
            for pits this deep, which
            you have dug for yourself.”
            “You are alone.”—
and I crawl toward
shadows in this room
cast only
by undeniable beams of light,
Your continued mercy,
shining through the window
where I still see
            those snowflakes
            You are
            still pursuing me…
But I am
            unable to comprehend
            these depraved shadows in my mind
            much less articulate a confession
            my sins have reached the heavens
So I
            close my mouth, and
            pride freezes me from the inside
This warm house was a delusion
            stupid lies
            embrace of insanity
from my cross to bear
You offer me
life in exchange for my worthless tries
at breathing in this room, suffocating
cannot run from You, yet
before You I cannot stand.
             I reach to close those blinds
            upon the window, so as
            to dwell in despair
            with darkness all around me,
a shadow You cast
            from behind me
            it reaches around my arms,
            horizontal beams,
            then the rest of me is covered, a
            vertical beam,
and I am left to gaze
at the cross You bore for me
there on it
is nailed all my iniquities
and before it
I weep,
and confess,
            “You are a God ready to forgive
            merciful and gracious
            abounding in
            steadfast love
            You will never give me up
            You keep covenant,
            Righteous One,
            You have dealt faithfully
            and I so wickedly,
            Yet in this room
            You have refused to grant me rest
            Only to meet me in my misery
            to hear my cry of distress
            and answer me with Your sure salvation
            so I might run
            outside into the snow
            finding warmth in Your fellowship—
            this cross on my back.
I mind not
getting wet, soaked even
by trials and daily death
if my heart is on fire
and I can feel You again…”
Snowflakes will fall and melt at Your will
Still, I’ll take Your path:
            Death to self for life You will resurrect
            instead of a life preserved for regrets
            on this deathbed.
Quina Aragon

Quina Aragon

Quina Aragon's articles, poems, and spoken word videos have been featured on The Gospel Coalition, Risen Motherhood, Journey Women, Fathom Mag, and The Witness: BCC. She resides in Tampa, FL with her husband Jon and beautiful, three-year-old daughter. Quina's first children's book, Love Made, is a poetic retelling of the creation story that highlights God as the Trinity, humans as His image bearers, and children as a delightful gift.

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