The Twisted Treasure

Craig Matthews ©2026

‍

All turned around inside myself

when finding “up” is suffocating

internal power expanding, pushing

pressing for the front while inflating.

‍

What is real?

Who’s in charge?

Is this how I really feel?

This tangled treasure peeled

‍

Everyday settling for coping

doesn’t make sense—it’s easier

when I let someone else

turn the wrench, spinning my pretense

‍

Emotions frazzled and fried

I can’t tuck all of my self inside

no matter how hard I tried

I remain surprised, unwise.

‍

It feels like my addictions protrude

from every pore, each hole

like they’re tattooed on my soul,

unchangeable. Unrelenting.

‍

The past keeps coming around

like the old rent collector

from the other side of town.

Pushing the emotional inspector

‍

“Just forget the past,”

—all those painful days

only remember the good

that’s your only should.”

‍

But nighttime still raids my mind

unsettling my quiet, my time

taking a few days prisoner,

until I can numb it enough

shaking memories is tough.

‍

This is all they offer?

This is their life forever?

Taking the bull by the horns

only works when you’re strong.

What about when you're weak?

Is there hope for me?

‍

Then Jesus makes us an offer.

Come to him, unload it again and again.

Let his shoulder relieve the pressure,

give him the twisted treasure.

As often as you must.

‍

Do you want to behealed?

Or do you want to hang around the pool,

wading in familiar attempts

that don’t work to fix the limp.

Only Jesus. Only Jesus.

The way is narrow, shadowed

But it is for you.

You and your twisted treasure.

‍