This is a brutal attempt to write some poetry – I journaled this on 9-17-07 at night on my back porch. When you start reading Thomas Merton, you start thinking and writing like this…
This night is different. Dark.
A powerful / unsettled blackness,
A blanket of wrath.
At night you hear the wind approaching…
It never comes.
I see a light flicker in the distance – or is it near?
It never comes.
I hear the lone bird sing his day song,
Somethings wrong!
This night is not different – It’s death!
A Divine Death – where God moves,
and works.
“Night gives way to dawn”
But not yet – not now! Now… here and now…
It is dark – and God kills
to make room for the newness of His daylight.
Ends & Means 
I like it. Keep after it. Writing poetry is good for the mind, soul, heart, and possibly the strength too.
I will admit that I am not a big poetry critic; perhaps because my little mind has a hard time wrapping itself around metaphors and such. To me your poem seemed a little …well…scary, sort of. It sounds like you’re afraid of the dark or something. I didn’t get the part about God killing to make room. What does that mean?
I remember your first poem. You were in first grade. You wrote about the clouds. It went something like…”Oh, the clouds. They are like God’s arms wrapping himself around you.” We thought you were a genius!!! Write another cloud poem.
Mom