IT

I looked for it,
But found it gone -
Funny how it took so long
To faith avow
And make response
Without anticipation.

I felt it there
In younger times,
Adopted it as ever mine
Until without
Was awkward more
Than being in its presence.

I miss it some,
For hinged on such
Was in myself a measured trust
But nonetheless
The safety there
Was never to fulfill.

I do not know
Quite how to feel
Without the constant need to heal
The sordid wounds
That taught me fear
I think I’ll live without.



KDC 4/2010

The Wisdom of Oswald

"You cannot have a moral vacation and remain moral, nor can you have a spiritual holiday and remain spiritual."

Allowance

The good Lord, He gives
And allows to be taken
The things we believe to have earned –
For nothing in this life
Can wake up and shake us
More than a tide that has turned
To reveal that the gift
Became more than the giver
When viewed within light of our need,
Presuming that we know
What He could do better
To quench our inherited greed.

LINES

THE LINES ARE BLURRED
AND IN BETWEEN
THE SMEARED REMAINS
OF WHAT HAS BEEN
AS TIME ALLOWS TO HEAL
OPEN WOUNDS,
THAT WE MIGHT FEEL.

THE LINES WERE DRAWN
SO LONG AGO
BEFORE WE WERE
SUPPOSED TO KNOW
THAT HURT IS NOT THE END
WHEN WE'RE
WRAPPED INSIDE DEFENSE.

THE LINES OF FACES
DEEPER GROW
AS WE TAKE HOLD
OF LETTING GO
TO FIND THE LIGHT OF HOPE
SHOWING HOW
TO LIVE BEYOND TO COPE.

MORE, AGAIN

More, again,
Persistent mess,
Human walls
Put up against…
My way, yours,
In between -
Resolution’s
Rarely clean.

More, again,
Left behind,
Dirty remnants
Over time…
My scars, yours,
Unforgotten –
Conflict all
Along begotten.

More, again,
Much undesired,
Peace remains
Though uninspired…
My soul, yours,
The one escape -
A world away
For which we wait.

MATTERS

It no longer matters,
The how or the why,
The fault of whom,
The wasted time,
Nor does it seem
To matter now
The sum of damage
Too profound…
The only thing
That I can see
That makes a difference
Is that we
Don’t allow it to matter,
The how or the why,
The fault of whom,
The wasted time,
The fear we hide.

ILLUSION

ALL CONTROL IS ILLUSION

YOU HAVE NO CONTROL

THERE IS NO CONTROLLING THE OUTCOMES

CONTROL IS LOGICALLY IMPOSSIBLE

YOU ONLY THINK YOU CONTROL

BUT YOU DON'T, IT IS A LIE

YOU HAVE BELIEVED A LIE

IF YOU THINK YOU ARE IN CONTROL

OF
A N Y T H I N G
A T
A L L

Half-Hearted

Here's the thing that keeps striking me solidly,
Over and over again as I grow and observe,
Striving to be the spiritual me,
The one that knows and honors truth,
And not the her that constantly lusts
For things to feed her self,
Just to feed her desires,
To fill the gaping hole that He left
On purpose so that He and only He
Could come and fill it with His Spirit.

Here's the thing I mention because of its nature,
Subtle and insidious, begging common practice
While posing as benign status quo,
Affecting our every decision and motive,
Governing our conscientious lifestyle,
And that is the amount of our heart
That is invested in God's will for us,
And the resulting amount of LIFE that we
Devote to His calling and give to Him
Sacrificially with no expectation save His pleasure.

Are you whole-heartedly His, with every fiber
Of your being guided by His hand and
Seeking His truth for us who He created
With purpose, not to please our selfs
But to please Him and thus each other,
Bathed in truth and light and love to
Shine on the world altruistic intent,
Seeking better for us all with no regard
For satisfying lusts that leave hungry the
Gaping soul that can only be filled as
We learn not to be HALF-HEARTED.

FORSAKEN IDENTITY

In the case of forsaken identity,
We are not who we once believed,
Nor do we have the right to know
The future of outcomes once controlled;
Instead, there lies a troubling void
In place of refuge mind-employed
To cope with what we might incur
As in the past when being hurt
And finding no room left to run,
Looked for reason where there’s none,
Concluding that we couldn’t trust
A soul to love forever, thus
We learned to keep another plan
In store in case we had the chance
To try and find solution to
The loneliness we always knew
While in the form of self assumed.

Inside Out

So much damage from life before,
Leaves me searching for ever more,
Creating patterns of response,
That leave me in a pool of want,
Until I find the source of life
And all that ever there is,
To dwell on what He means to us
And what He suffered to give,
‘Til when I come beside His power
I know there is no doubt
That He is all I need to see
The rest is INSIDE OUT.

KDC 1/10