I Don't Sing

I don’t sing
It’s just something I don’t do
My voice is rough as sandpaper
Broken, bumbling, and blue

The coarse notes straggle fourth
Forced past my untrained lips
A whole scale of different cracks
Running the gamut of mistakes and blips

For these reasons I don’t sing
People don’t appreciate the sound
But mere people have yet to inhibit
My voice when I’m on holy ground

In God’s house I forget that I screech
I forget my voice's faults when I am kneeling
Unfortunately I also forget the rhythm and the beat
But I never forget that grace-filled feeling

Grace fueled, I sing hymns for him
I sing my heart out, I sing my love
Wild, loud, off beat, and out of tune
I sing my passion for our God above

I think he might be the only one
Able to stand my screeching and wailing
In fact I think he might even like my singing
For, to him, my song is ever sailing