Port of Ships

I struggle with loving myself.  I often see myself as not worth much.  I know the value I have in Christ's eyes, yet struggle to believe it with my heart.  I let voices from past wounds speak louder than He who says "You are fearfully and wonderfully made."  God is using marriage to help me change.  Philip pushes me to be better in a gentle, loving way.  I'm always writing him love poems and he asked me to write a love poem to myself.  It sounds silly and a bit narcissistic but I think it was good for me.  So here we have it:  The self titled love poem, from me, to me.     

Chelsea
Apricot amber locks fall
over buttermilk skin,
kissed by the angels.


Two blue fires burn
to embers
warming wanderers
like a port of ships.


Long piano fingers
lit with diamonds
spin stories,
make mud pies,
craft crescent moons.


Salty dreams flow
down kitten whiskers,
past puddles,
through streams
and back to the sea.





Now it's your turn.  I challenge you to write yourself your own love poem.  If you blog about it, comment with your link, I'd love to read!  And whether you're married to the man/lady of your dreams, or hopelessly hopefully single, remember you are passionately, desperately loved by God.  He wrote you lots of love poems this is among my favorites.