The Sunset

Colors fading into night—

I hold the day in the sunset.

Reds, deep as Flathead cherries,

Oranges, vibrant like the buffaloberries you saw on the hill,

Fade into pinks and blues and peak-of-mountain purples.

Deep, deep blues.

And stillness.

Emotions of the day reside in the colors—

Juicy red—your embarrassment and

bashfulness (…you know what I’m talking about…),

Vibrant orange—oh the joy you felt at work today,

and I did not forget

That deep, deep blue and purple when you went home to be alone—

and your tenderer moments of peace and sorrow.

Tears from the day I hold in these lakes,

Growth from the day in these trees.

And the grittiest, rockiest thoughts—

thoughts of Heaven and Hell and death

and doubt and fear and loss and awe—

Are in the summit,

held in the grey-green-white of the mountain rock

on which you now stand,

And see—they are closest to Me,

bathed in the sunset I use to hold the day in My hands.

Let it go in the sunset.

With the dawn comes the sunrise—

the deep, sorrowful blues and quiet purples

turn to pinks and oranges and reds on the horizon—

new joys and new emotions in a new day.

But for now, in the still of the sunset, be held.

Let Me catch your red embarrassment,

Let Me suspend your golden joy in the clouds,

Let Me cradle your gut-wrenching, blue sadness

and wordless, purple peace.

Let Me trap your tears in a bottle and store them

in the lakes of the valley below.

Let Me pluck you up and place you on the summit—

on the peak of your grittiest thought—

for in what you ponder and doubt most,

I will bring you closest to Me.

Stillness. And quiet—no stars yet.

Be held, because though tomorrow is a new day,

I created the sunset for tonight.

I am in everything I have made.

Author's Note: This is a poem inspired by the sunset I saw on Mt. Aeneas in Montana’s Jewel Basin region near Bigfork, 9/10/20, as I was processing and praying. In this “Peaks for Josh” journey, sometimes the Lord said phrases or words to pray through, and sometimes He said nothing. This time, it was more of a poem, or the pieces of one, which I then used to write this poem a few weeks later (…with an insanely creative title, I know). That being said, it’spretty unedited. I know that I am human, and I hesitate to write in the first person (as if God is speaking), because I don’t want to put my words in the Father’s mouth. But, there was grace in this process, I think, and so all I can ask is that whoever hears it or reads it (even if it ends up being just me) would weigh these words against the Word and the true Voice of the Father, taking His alone as truth.