Here is your box... but at first I didn’t open it It needed precision to be unopened and then I thought I had enough and did
I chose to sit in my favorite place under my tree, with my box Carefully as we should I, quickly opened the lid
That day I saw a flashlight and in thinking, I need to outshine this darkness, I ran away
Soon after, I found myself in an old phone booth Could you mail me my box? It arrived just in time! In my box was a beating heart
Then I felt it in my womb So I put the flashlight back Years went by, and it seemed beating hearts were all I had
Then one day I tripped over my box I opened it while sitting on the ground Inside were all my shadows for somehow the light was suppressed
I ran away again taking with me all my beating hearts I had my flashlight too, but I walked right into the dark where He was waiting, for He knew I would
I saw my box again Opening it more carefully, slower this time, I saw a match And there You were, You, who supplied the rough stone to strike it!
While lighting this I realized how all my beating hearts and my own seem to dance in Your flame And it was to be, so much more illuminating!
More years went by... And with each one, I open my box all the time and each time the simplest gifts show up!
I found a bible and a pen, a camera, and an artist’s brush, all kinds of seeds, and a set of drums, and yes, even more beating hearts! each one, carrying their own boxes and now, well... now we sit together with my flashlight, revealing...
So many more matches! And we light each one for Him In Him, In my box
Copyright 2007 Kimmy Van Kooten
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Reviews of "In My Box"
Reviewed by Flying Fox Ted L Glines (Reader)
Reviewed on March 5, 2007
Ooo, Kimmy, this is lovely! We can feel the character changing and growing though the passages of life. This poem would make a great little stageplay!
I know some people tend to put all their troubles into a box, hoping to keep them hidden. Others keep their heart safely tucked away in a box to avoid pain and disappointment. But then, in either case, if that box is given to the Lord and left for Him to deal with, only then can we be free of the contents of the box, free to expose our heart of love and compassion, without fear of being hurt. Yours is a deep bit of poetry, Kimmy. Probably deeper than I understand. Fascinating write!
I offer my complete surrender, dear Kimmy. After all, I'm only a mortal man, not a smart, shrewd, cunning, sophisticated, devious, conniving, multitasking woman-of-the-world. I look at the box and see only the box.
But now you've got me running to my eye doctor for sure. I'd go to my shrink, but he'd want 27 sessions to figure out that I just need to see my eye doctor.
But now I think I know what to do. I'll just ask my wife. She seems to know all the answers, even the answers to questions I've yet to ask. (She's always at least three steps ahead of me, you know. But you're a woman, so of course you know.)
When I think about your box, I think about God and memories and hopes and fears and shadows and sunlight, and it's all too much for me.
If only I'd been given one of your boxes when I was in kindergarten, I'd probably have it figured out by now. Maybe.
O, okay. You're right. All else would have failed by now so I'd be resigned to reading the directions or asking for help. If that happened, I'd know for sure you got the best of me.
But, of course, if God were in my box, I wouldn't be worrying or fretting at all, would I? I'd know by faith that all is well.
Thank you, Kimmy. You've renewed my faith, and all is right with the world--except that you and I both know hardly anything's right with the world nowadays.
I loved this one, Kimmy.
Have a cold Budweiser and sleep tight, my dear!
Richard
Enjoyed this so much! Very creative and kept my attention to the last word! I do a lesson with my students where each student is given a box, they can create anything they want with this box, they can color, cut, paste, disassemble, two or more may put their boxes together and create what their heart and imagination desires. It is amazing what six year olds and boxes can create...enjoyed this much Kimmy, you are a wonderful artist my friend!
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
very touching this reminds me of the box I call God Box I took a shoe box or a coffee can and wrote down all the things that I needed to let go of and give to God but I am to leave it there and not reopen it to read the things I give to God. Thanks for this write.
Hugs Angela
Cool write Kimmy, very origianal outside the box thinking on this one about your box and the pleasures and mysteries it may contain. You chose an interesting analogy for love and life and I think it went together beautifully...well done
Beautiful poem, Kimmy, and while completely unrelated, your poem sparked a long buried memory of a Christmas in my childhood, regarding a much anticipated Christmas gift and the neat trick my parents played on me!
Kimmy,
This is an incredible write my friend. I'm willing to bet that your box got unbelievably lighter over the course of time. That box is a caché of gifts and treasures which are you.
My Box is ethereal spiritual physics, magic that causes more light to come out than went in. Here, we see a facet of the miracle of Light. A story poem of a box, mementoes, and Light...I have a vision of an infra-red picture designed by you, Kimmy, with the effect of the box being radiated by the Big Match in the Sky...
These timeless quotations culled from the celebrated corpus of writings by W.E.B. Du Bois are presented with illuminating introductory essays by Aberjhani. Narration of the Audible book performed by Catherine Byers.
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Ted
George
its a keeper Pax A :)
God Bless
Love, Lena
But now you've got me running to my eye doctor for sure. I'd go to my shrink, but he'd want 27 sessions to figure out that I just need to see my eye doctor.
But now I think I know what to do. I'll just ask my wife. She seems to know all the answers, even the answers to questions I've yet to ask. (She's always at least three steps ahead of me, you know. But you're a woman, so of course you know.)
When I think about your box, I think about God and memories and hopes and fears and shadows and sunlight, and it's all too much for me.
If only I'd been given one of your boxes when I was in kindergarten, I'd probably have it figured out by now. Maybe.
O, okay. You're right. All else would have failed by now so I'd be resigned to reading the directions or asking for help. If that happened, I'd know for sure you got the best of me.
But, of course, if God were in my box, I wouldn't be worrying or fretting at all, would I? I'd know by faith that all is well.
Thank you, Kimmy. You've renewed my faith, and all is right with the world--except that you and I both know hardly anything's right with the world nowadays.
I loved this one, Kimmy.
Have a cold Budweiser and sleep tight, my dear!
Richard
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
Hugs Angela
fee
Love Tinka
Thanks,
Jill
"In my Box" was delightful. It's amazing how the simplist gifts are the most precious and complex in the end.
Blessings,
Sharon
"In My Box"
Ah simply beautiful my dear!
Thank you~From the Heart...
peace and love,
Carole~
Delightful poetry! As Georg say's the saddest of all the memories are empty boxes. May your boxes always be full, Kimmy!
Blessings and Love,
~Linda
Nice work, Kimmy,
Delighted of have opened this one!!!
Georg
This is an incredible write my friend. I'm willing to bet that your box got unbelievably lighter over the course of time. That box is a caché of gifts and treasures which are you.
Rusty
Sage