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Jennifer Galey

First Prize in Category 1: 2010 Christian Publishers Poetry Prize $300

About this Christian Poet:
I stumbled across my love for poetry at a very early age. I had the common dream of flying when I was about 7 years old. When I woke up, I immediately grabbed a pencil and paper because I didn't want the feeling to escape. The result was my first poem. I later discovered that it is the process of writing that launches my spirit into an aerial view, rather than the finished product.

In regards to my winning poem, "Childish Things," I wanted to capture the child-like freedom Christ extends to all creation if we cast our cares on Him. The Gospel message, and in turn, our Christian relationship is beautifully simple.

In addition to poetry, I have a passion for marriages to grow in sacrificial love. My husband Adam and I have started a couples counseling ministry for this very purpose. It is based out of our home in Pelham, Alabama.

Childish Things

O Abba Father, tuck me in the shadow of your wing,
for monsters lurk and linger in the land of Your dwelling.
If You can pry this wadded drawing clamped between my fists,
ten rakish claws are proof enough that monsters do exist.

O Abba Father, rock me with the cadence of Your voice.
Whisper the words, I love you, but pretend it is my choice.
I see my art is carved inside the apple of Your eye,
but fears have ripened fantasy, and picked the perfect lie.

O Abba Father, warm a bottle brimming with mercy.
Hide not the light of Your kind eyes from my infirmity.
For what I have to tell You is so hard—it’s not easy—
that monster art You brag about is really only me.

O Abba Father, how I long to sit upon your knee,
but now I grovel just to scrape the gravel at Your feet.
I peel my sullen scabs to scars and wash them with my shame.
Follow my ever-growing shadow, cower at Your Name.

O Abba Father, shine Your light inside my hiding place
I’ll share my darkest secrets, if You let me seek Your face.
As You can see, Your robe is stained and caked in muddy pies,
I dragged it through a pit of clay, and made it my disguise.

O Abba Father, Look! A snapshot when I played dress-up.
Remember when I twirled around and sipped straight from Your cup?
Or was it just an airy dream when I was free to fly?
The blue wings of a memory can melt into the sky.

O Abba Father, paint the clouds that frown a smiling red.
I’ll close this dingy, torn umbrella—play with me instead.
Glimpse down at the rising puddles, they have buried both our feet.
Look! The lines dividing our reflections blur before they meet.

Copyright ©2010 by Jennifer Galey