Feeling Winter

The stark, brown lines
Of oaks in winter,
Thin against the endless sky,
Humble in their decrease,
Stretch like the soul
Toward heaven,
Bare and fruitless to the eye
Yet alive down deep
Where sleeping blooms
Await reawakening.

The pale, gray mood
Of clouds in winter
Flat across the widened sky,
Ambiguous in form
And bleak of portent,
Cold in its deceit,
Creeps like the ache of age,
Apparently hopeless,
Yet the warmth of Spring
Awaits reaapearance.

ALIVE

I AM ALIVE.
Like the wind, I come and go.
Like the waves, I swell and fall.
Like the sun, I shine and fade.
Like the earth, I move.

I AM ALIVE.
Like the blooms, I open and close.
Like the trees, I stand and wait.
Like the clouds, I sometimes rain....
Like the grass, I grow.

LET'S BE ALIVE.
Like the priests, we'll sacrifice.
Like the monks, we'll seek His face.
Like the saints, we'll sing His praise.
As His beloved, we'll drown in grace...

 

Not Quite

I am a preacher without a voice,
A clown with a normal nose,
A book store where no one likes to read,
A model that can't strike a pose.

I am a song that's missing music,
A gourmet meal dropped to the floor,
A shining star obscured by the clouds,
A game for which no one keeps score.

I am a bird that's unable to fly,
A flower that doesn't bloom,
A sappy letter lost in transit,
A hotel without any rooms.

I am a fortune with no one to spend it,
An outlet without any wires,
A gun that has no ammunition,
A painting caught up in a fire.

I am a water hose filled with holes,
A phone that can not go through,
A sister born as an only child,
A hopeless case if not for you.

HOLDING OUT

I hold out hope
Like a beacon
Shining forth
Into the future
Its rays breaking up
The dread darkness
Into fleeting specters,
Making room for dreams
To stand, discovered.

The two that remain

Are kept close by,
Delighting in the unseen
Exposed by hope
And giving out light
Of a different kind,
Its warmth disarming
History cold
And chasing fear.
 

These three I carry,

Traversing time
As if it moved
On whispers low,
Neither seen
Nor barely heard
While high above
Clouds of wisdom
Gather with belief.

Schism

Within the darkened dungeon walls

The locks are cinched up tight
So no one hears the desperate calls
For hope, for bread, for light –
While just above a feast is held
Inside the hallowed halls,
As those who walk in freedom
Take the blessings meant for all.

The captives do not know how close

Their rescue, in truth, lies
For they are separated from
The source of redeemed life,
And while they long for being saved
Before they reach an earthly grave,
The privileged won’t dare to go
Into the dungeon’s gloomy glow.

Is there but one who’d dare to help

These suffering souls to rest?
A selfless fan of mercy
And the least of those he bests?
While putting others first, with love,
To offer up the key,
A willing soul to teach them how
To walk amongst the free?

For when we stop to realize

How little we deserve
Compared with how we’re magnified
With favor unreserved,
We can not help but want to share
With all who know the need,
The boundless love and tender care
In God’s great family.

MYSELF

I don’t want to be myself

Sometimes,
When others can’t see
The truth portrayed
And followed after,
Denying all
Beside it looming tall.

 

I can’t bear to be myself

Sometimes,
When isolation
Pulling me sideways
Into its black hole,
Denies the light
Outside it taking flight.
 

I can’t help but be myself

Sometimes,
When everything fits
The image unreal -
Yet we stop looking,
Perception trapped
Inside the mirror’s half.
 

I won’t try to be myself

Sometimes,
Because of the lies
That we believe
Before we know it,
Fair or unfair,
Hence the labels to wear.
 

I won’t show to you myself

Sometimes,
When nothing changes
In dreams transparent,
Meant not to come true
In ideal form,
Thus the mask is worn.

The Crossroads

We argued at the crossroads.
As the night set in
You lit the ancient path,
Yet I stood my ground,
Gaze fixed
In the direction
Of my longing.

We remained at the crossroads.
As my vision failed,
You waited, unmoving,
Yet I did not turn,
Heart lost
In the depth of
Vain imaginations.

I left you at the crossroads.
As the distance grew
Between our separate ways
I stood to lose all,
Tricked by
The way that seems right
But leads to pain.

I crawled back to the crossroads.
As the sun arose
You held out both your hands,
Yet I bowed lower,
In shame
At having left
The Higher Road.

You held me at the crossroads.
As the Light shone bright
Only one Way remained
Yet I clung to you,
My guide
And refuge on
The narrow path of life.

Of Course

Of course it comes down

To me and you
And why do I not see it?
You’re where the waning leads,
You’re at the end of me.
 

Of course you allow

The broken ties
And why don’t I expect it?
You alone the hurting mend,
You alone make whole again.

Of course I am wrong

To start anew
And why do I yet believe?
You instill the dark with light,
You bring hope to the failing fight.

Of course this house

Is made of cards
And why did I construct it?
You are my sheltered place,
In you I find love’s face.

RESIGNATION

When the tree is young,
Its bright green leaves,
Bursting forth boldly,
Proclaim intent to grow
With stunning focus,
Not to be challenged by
The sky’s failure to rain,
The sun’s refusal to shine,
The soil’s lack of content,
Nor the air’s stagnant heat.

Now it grows older,

Its branches turn
Careful in season,
Producing darker fruit
With timidity,
While often challenged by
The damaging winds,
The violent storms,
The incessant assault
On its viability.

In later winter

The tree resolves
To stand tall and proud,
Its calloused bark rigid
With hollow furrows
That mark its challenges
With time and attack,
With needful neglect,
With resignation
And withered, fading fruit.