In the Blink of an Eye
She watched him with
curiosity,
wondering when he would
muster the courage
to stand up and say
hello.
Just one little word,
was all she needed;
five letters, a simple –
“Hello.”
Startled, she
took a step back
and froze.
Was this really happening?
Was her waiting
finally over?
Before she could think,
before she could speak,
he was saying his name
and asking for hers.
What should she say?
What could she say?
Her voice had
already gone.
So all that escaped
her dry parchéd mouth,
was a raspy and
ugly old
“Hi.”
But of course that was not,
her actually name,
and her face flushed
furiously red.
She wanted no more
than to run out right then;
she wanted no more
than to die.
But die she did not,
and her voice did return,
and she managed to
tell him her name.
And from that moment on
they were never the same,
for everything had
changed.
True Beauty
Sometimes I’ll sit
in silence, and wonder
what life would be like
if everything were
perfect.
If everything went
according to plan,
if every plan
was perfectly done,
and if every person
was beautiful.
And sometimes
I wish it were so…
but then, I realize
how wrong
and tragic
and terrible
that would be.
Because life is not perfect.
Life is chaotic,
and messy,
and unpredictable,
and painful,
and tragic,
and lonely,
and yet it is so
very, very…
beautiful.
Beauty is not found
in perfection;
Beauty is found
in the flaws.
Beauty is not
a perfect smile;
it is the glowing warmth
of joy underneath.
Beauty is not
flawless skin;
it is the ageless sparkle
of life in your eyes.
Beauty is not
a perfect physique;
it is the depths of love that
pours out of your heart.
And beauty is not
great physical strength;
it is the spiritual strength to
admit that you’re weak.
We all have our own
self-perceived flaws,
but when we focus on those,
we then become blind
to the simple fact that
we have all been created
in His image;
in the image of the
most beautiful being
in existence.
And if He can love us
for who and what we are,
are not we then,
all of us,
beautiful?
Almost Missed It!
This just in!
I almost missed it.
I need to get better at
planning things out.
But such is the life
of a working student.
Rock Bottom
I had forgotten things
could be this way.
How one moment
life can be grand
and special
and fun
and glorious…
and then the next…
I had forgotten how
it all can change –
how at the
drop of a dime
time can stop
and everything can
change.
How great adventures
can end in disaster,
how daydreams
can turn into nightmares,
how harmless exploring
can get yourself lost –
and I am
most certainly
lost.
I am lost because
I knew it all.
I am lost because
I could not fall.
At least,
I thought
I knew it all,
and now
I know that
I can fall.
The only problem
now is that
I’m not able to
get up.
It’s depressing,
I know,
but such is
my lot.
I have fallen and I
cannot get up.
Harder Than it Looks
I never thought that
daily poetry
would be so hard
to write…
Triumph
I will not be intimidated by you.
I will not back down.
I will never give up.
You will
never
own
me.
You can try though.
You can try
to chain me up.
You can try
to break me down.
You can try
to smother me
with guilt
with fear,
with shame,
but hear
my words
as I tell you right now
that you
will never
ever
win.
For I’ve been made
free,
perfected by
Grace,
and none of you
hatred
or malice
orthreats
or spite,
will ever prevail.
It’s a hopeless fight!
I have already won.
You’re sick reign of terror
has been made undone.
Through Him, I am
more than a
conqueror,
and I
have more than
conquered
you.
A Library Visit
“My friend, I hate to
bother again,
but I’m having a
bit of a problem.”
“Oh ho?”
“Yes, you see, I’m
writing a book –”
“A book!”
“A book,
yes indeed.”
“Splendid, old chap!
What’s it on, then?
What is the
genre of choice?”
“Well, that is the problem,
my kindest of sirs –
I seem to have
lost my voice!”
“Poppycock, man!
You’re being absurd –
you’re speaking to me
right now!”
“No, no, my friend,
I don’t mean this voice;
I mean the voice of my pen.
The muse of my mind
has left me for dead,
and the wells of my soul
have run dry!
Tirelessly have I tried to write,
but the words elude my page!”
“It sounds to me
like writer’s block.”
“Yes, that’s precisely it!
Curse upon curses,
I’ve hit a brick wall,
and now I cannot move!”
“Balderdash, man,
you’re making a scene!
You’ve just hit a bump
in the road.
Give it a rest
for a day – three or so –
and let your mind
refresh.”
“You think that’s all
I need to do?”
“Yes, good sir, I do.
The problem is that you have
worn out your mind in
thinking of what
next to write.
You cannot insist on
writing at all
when you don’t even know
where your words
have all fled!
My friend, you just
need to rest.”
“Really, my friend,
that’s all I need?
I simply need to rest?”
“If a doctor I were,
I would order it now,
and insist that you
do as you’re told.”
“Thank you, old chap,
for telling me so –
I feel much better now.”
“Anytime, my
worrisome friend.
Now, let us be off
for some tea.”
The Calling
Close your eyes,
open your ears,
open your heart,
and listen.
Quietly.
Intently.
Secretly.
Listen.
Hear the noise that
moves through silence,
but listen for the
hidden cries
of the voices that are
too fearful to speak,
of the voices that are
not strong, but weak.
Help them.
Lift them up
with prayer and song,
lift them up
and help them along.
They need you more
then you’ll ever know.
They need you to help them
flourish and grow.
So nourish their hearts
and uplift their souls,
and tell them that God,
will ne’er let them go.
For they are the chosen,
they are the ones.
Can you hear them
calling?
Benediction
I am sorry, my God.
I have stumbled along
alone, and lost
the sight of Your
holy way.
I have fought so hard
and struggled so long –
my God, please
help me, I pray!
Help me to break
this cycle of doubt,
this cycle of fear;
open my eyes,
and open my ears.
Help me to see You and
hear Your blessed word.
Help me to cease my
own ways and just
stop.
I am sorry, dear Friend,
for letting you down,
for not having the
strength
to stand up and fight;
to stand up and fight
against this dark world,
to stand up and fight
against my own flesh.
It’s just so hard
to fight
every day,
every night –
even now, I think of flight!
Of running away
from the path ‘neath my feet;
I’m sorry, my Lord,
I am too scared and weak.
I am not good.
I am not strong.
I am not right.
I only do wrong.
Oh, what a wretch that I
am, I am –
Father, forgive me these,
sins, these sins
that constantly haunt my
dreams, my dreams.
Purge me and make me
clean and whole.
Restore unto me,
dear God, my soul.
Give me the strength,
Your strength, each day,
to walk as You walk,
in Your holy way.
Father,
forgive me,
these sins.
Wisdom and Death
Wisdom.
The Maiden of Light.
Long did she court me,
beckoning me
to follow her ways,
to hear her voice,
to heed her instruction.
Long did she wait
for me to listen,
to bend my ear,
to understand
and learn.
But I was a fool,
and I believed I was
already wise.
And so I ignored her.
I stopped up my ears
and blocked out her voice,
and filled my mind
with the words of another.
And in my resistance to
Wisdom, another came forth,
creeping from the shadows.
Death was her name,
The Mistress of Night,
enticing me with
grandeur and glory…
and I fell.
I turned my back on Wisdom,
I walked away from Light,
and in the darkness,
I courted Death.
Having abandoned the Truth,
I fell into chaos, and
I relished in my filth,
I played and danced with fire,
I sang with drunken lust,
my cup filled with desire;
in the void, I drank of Death,
her nectar bittersweet.
I fooled myself that she was mine,
but I was hers to keep.
I lived as such for a time,
and for a time I thought
I had found peace…
But peace cannot live where
chaos dwells,
nor can Light exist
where Death is Queen,
and I was surely dead.
She snared my soul
when I was young,
and now my life
is over.
A hollow shell
I have become,
unable to even feel.
Nor can I see sweet
Wisdom’s Light,
for Death has
blinded me.
So heed these words,
my precious son,
even if they are not wise;
do not forsake
sweet Wisdom’s call,
and be careful not to fall
for the song of Death –
hold fast and strong,
and stay within
the Light.
Regret
I loved you once.
You may not remember,
or you may not believe me,
or maybe you chose to forget,
to block out the memories
like nightmarish dreams,
but…
there was a time when
your smile made me smile,
when your joy was mine,
when your voice
uplifted my soul.
But then something changed.
Something inside my heart
grew cold, like ice,
and shadows crept into
my mind, and then
I pushed you away.
I pushed you away and
cursed your existence
and shattered your
warm, loving heart.
I blamed you for my
darkness,
I blamed you for my
guilt.
You were the one who
drove me to
madness,
you made me
push you
away.
I was a fool
to believe this
deception.
I was a fool,
and am a fool now,
because now I realize that
you weren’t that one;
I was that one.
You were the one
who did not judge,
who did not scorn,
who did not hate.
You never hated
anything about me…
but I did.
I hated
everything
about
me.
I hated the fact that
you loved me so much.
I hated the fact that
you gave me your heart,
and that I was not able
to give you mine…
I tried though.
I tried to give you
my heart,
my love,
I tried to give you
my all,
my love…
but I failed…
It wasn’t always like that, though.
The hatred wasn’t always there.
There was some light
in my darkness.
There was some joy
in my despar.
There were times when I
would lose myself staring
into the depths of your
beautiful eyes.
There were times when I
would just hold your hand,
and let your warmth
seep into mine…
and I will never forget
or forgive myself
for crushing your heart
and running away,
for closing my heart
and running away.
I’m sorry, my love
for running away.
I am sorry
I ran
away.
Broken Down
He stared at the blank page,
bristling with frustration,
yet frozen with fright,
at the unspoken words
he wanted to write.
Should he whisper his secrets
and disclose his thoughts?
Confess all his feelings
and failings and flaws?
Should he dare to be open
and let down his guard;
to break down the walls
that surrounded his heart
and reveal who he was,
each worn, broken part?
He sighed and wept silently
as the fear cleaved his mind;
the fear of rejection
if someone might find
the words on the page
that his pen could not write.
Can a pen and a page
release you from hell?
Or is silence the curse of the
dead and the damned?
And cursed he was,
yes, cursed indeed;
cursed to live with his
burden of guilt,
the guilt of his past
and the fruits of his sins.
A pen and a page
could not even begin
to write out the story of
of all he had done.
And yet…
He could not shake
the feeling
that he needed to write.
That he needed to write
to right his wrongs;
to let his soul just
sing its songs
of grief and mourning
over what he had done,
to let the pain just
finally be gone.
Cracking his knuckles,
he picked up his pen,
and started to write those
songs of his soul.
To write so that
someday he might
feel whole.
To write and just
be free of it all.
Free from the pain.
Free from the shame.
And with each letter
his chains
let go…
Now
I am finally
free
Tired
I’m tired of all these walls,
of being too scared to let you in,
of being too frightened to trust.
I’m tired of all these games,
of standing by idly, watching as
you sing and dance and smile and laugh.
I’m tired of being all alone,
of feeling this empty void in my heart,
of wishing for something more.
Oh, how very tired I am…
I am… (NaPoWriMo Day One)
I am…
A desolate soul,
stranded in the vastness
of the chaos of this world;
a broken mind,
trying to piece together the
puzzle of my existence;
a weeping heart,
crying for the pain and the
suffering of this world,
this world so filled
with hate,
with anger,
with greed,
with pain – oh!
Oh, how this world
pains me so!
Oh how this life
pains my soul!
I am hurting.
My heart, it
cannot contain
the sorrow that swells
with each setting sun,
as darkness and coldness
envelops the land;
as darkness and coldness
envelops my soul.
I am burdened.
Chained down by the
shackles of the hated,
the bonds of those
who have been
rejected,
despised,
worn down,
and broken.
Oh, how I am broken!
Broken for this
hopeless people!
For these mourning faces
that I cannot unsee!
They haunt my waking dreams,
watching me both day and night;
their eyes bore into my heart,
they bore into my soul,
imploring me to save them,
imploring me to…
But I can’t.
I cannot be their savior.
I cannot be the one to
lift them out of their
lives of squalor and despair.
How can one chained such as I
lift up the broken ones
whose weight is crushing me?
And they are such a weight…
No.
I am not that man.
I am not any man.
I am nothing.
I am…
fin
Woven Anew
Once I was lost in the noise of this world,
suff’ring a life filled with pain,
until You uplifted my heart and my soul,
and broke off my shackles and chains.
Woven anew with the threads of Your Grace,
You stitched up what was torn apart;
Filled with compassion and mercy and love,
Your Hands held me close to Your Heart.
I am now free from my grief and despair,
from the curse and the pain of my sin;
Quickened to life by Your Spirit of Peace;
By grace, I have been born again.
Lord, Shelter my soul and safeguard my heart
from the toils and cares of each day.
Hold to my hand and strengthen my step
to walk in Your Holy Way.
Once More
Once more, I fear,
my heart has been snared
in the grips and the pain
of this love – this love
that should not be spoken.
My heart, it weeps,
for now it is broken.
Torn are my feelings
of want and despair;
whispers of should-nots,
longings to dare;
lingering feelings
that litter my heart
of a love that was pure
but is now torn apart.
To keep it a secret,
to deny life to live –
they are one and the same,
for this is not a game –
this love, my love,
that is only for you.
Let come whate’er may;
I will wait here for you.
When Will I Find You?
I long to be wrapped
in the warmth of your arms,
to feel your touch
against mine.
I long for our hearts
to flutter as one,
for our souls to be
e’er intertwined.
I long for your presense
to be next to me,
to hear you breathe
as you dream.
I long to see you
smile and sigh.
I long for my mind
to be free.
I long for your heart
for your mind, for your soul.
I long, my Love, for you.
When will I find you,
when will you come?
I long to say,
“I love you.”
When will I find you,
Love?
Mistake Not My Love
Mistake not my love for thee,
dearest of friends,
a love all encompassing
that shall last till the end,
when all the World fails
and Time destroys men –
but never, dear friend,
will this love begin
to wane or fade or trickle away.
This love is a bond,
and forever I’ll say:
Mistake not my love for thee,
dearest of friends,
and know that I’ll be here
until this life ends.
Hush Now
Silence.
Embracing those
who have
loved and lost,
those who have
suffered so.
Silence.
Reminding us
to bow our heads
in solemn prayer,
to never, ever
forget.
Silence.
Just a moment,
a quiet pause in a
lifetime of
movement.
Stop.
Hush now.
Silence.
Can you hear them?
The whispers of
the ones we lost
all those years ago,
telling us to
push on and to
never ever give up,
to live our lives
and fully know
that they will
always
be with us here -
in our hearts and
in our minds.
Silence.
We will
never
forget.
Dear, Love…
Dear whoever you may be,
I am waiting here,
for you to come and hold my heart
and banish all my fear.
I’ve been waiting every day
for you, my only one,
but with each day my heart grows faint -
my Love, when will you come?
If only you could know how much
my heart does yearn for you.
To look into your eyes, your soul,
and know, my Love, just you.
Dear whoever you may be,
I’m still waiting here.
But please don’t keep me waiting long -
my Love, I need you here.
Lost in a Mem’ry
Her eyelids grow heavy
as she fights off the sleep
that is weighing her down,
compelled by the need
to stay there,
awake,
within the realm of
reality,
sanity,
truth – the dream,
it whispers deception,
sweet lies in her ear,
pulling her further
into the dark,
asleep.
Awake.
Reliving a mem’ry
that isn’t quite hers,
stumbling through hist’ry
that’s halfway obscured
by the frost of the night -
it fogs up her sight -
her heart is so
cold and
alone.
Trapped.
Locked in a time
neither here nor there,
the darkness,
it follows her steps,
a waltz -
one-two-three
one-two-three
one-two-three
Stop.
The echo of music
pervades the vast halls,
a chorus of sorrow;
she cries out in pain.
She needs to wake up,
she needs to wake up,
the dream isn’t real,
she needs to wake up.
But up isn’t up
and down’s turned around.
Tears splash in drops,
she needs to be found.
She’s lost in a mem’ry
that isn’t quite hers,
until she falls
softly
awake.
