I am a chalkboard

I am a chalkboard

A magnet for scribbles

A smooth charcoal face

That none can resist

To soil

And once their words

Cover my skin

I am never the same

No matter how much erasing

And how much water

Tries to wash the smudgy remains

I am still smeared

With the dust and debris

Of words that were once written

On my heart

 

 

2 thoughts on “I am a chalkboard

  1. To often this describes our hearts. Why would we allow someone to write on our hearts with indelible ink? Why give others that kind of power? Because we care about others, Because the alternative is a sad, dry emotionless life

    So our hearts are soiled with scribbles and smudges. And pain.

    Only when I see the scribbles are guided by the Master’s hand and I start to notice the message that is forming there, do I begin to understand. There is a purpose. And it is for my good.

    Like

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