Crimson isn’t always so red
Sometimes
It isn’t
Blazing at all.
That flame of life as
Vibrancy fades
Is preceded by far less
Brilliant
Green which
Holds real growth and life.
Leaves
Burst into
Fluttering reflections
The warm sun and the blue sky
Join in
This their
Child: the lifegiver.
Which somehow as it dies
Becomes greater, brighter
Flickering
Alive.
Though almost dead
Its passionate glow as it
Rebels
Desires
To live but fire
Cannot survive when ice
Cuts
Freezes
Why must life die?
Only when death’s knock turns us
Red
We’re
Dying and trying
To see the life in death.
That roar
Protest
Refusal to surrender
But sometimes we can’t
Keep on.
When life
Finally dies
We drop the red for
White flags
Of Surrender.

To the women of the crimson blood, who have shown me how to surrender: Mrs. McGlenn, Miss Kim Le, and many more. I look forward to worshiping with you in Heaven.

This autumn, I was pondering how the brightest season is actually the precursor to the season of quietness and death. It is almost as if the trees protest against their demise. For me, it was a parallel to our resistance of death. Jesus said, ” Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (John 12:24) In our death-whether it be a small death to our wills or our literal physical death-we may fight passionately, but only when we surrender to the Lord can He produce much fruit.

Crimson’s Protest is the very first poem I’ve shared publicly. I wasn’t going to chose it to lead the way; but a sweet friend’s trial led me to read it again today. I believe the Lord wants me to give it to you, so I hope it blesses you. Feel free to pass it on to anyone facing grief, or death of any kind.