aborted

the door slammed
the lid shut
i didn't even get the chance
to say i'm sorry
to say i love you
to say whatever the hell it takes
pardon my french
but these words bite
trapped forever unspoken
you gave up on me
without even trying
i'm lost in longing
for what might have been
for a life unlived
for a chanced to breathe
you stole my voice
won the argument we never had
afraid i might change your life
i'm suffocating alone
imprisoned without a choice
abandoned to wonder
how you could reject
someone you never knew
all i asked for was love
never even got to mess that up
i may be voiceless
but i can hear the angels singing

The Dog King (a travel essay)

Honestly, the size of his balls made me the most nervous. This was no tame mutt but a wild pack leader submitted to no one. Nipping at my heels he embodied all my feelings about being in this spot in the first place: I hated package tours. 

When I travel I make plans like outlines—hoping the details are surprising moments with a large dose of acculturation flavor. Though technically a tourist I dislike acting as one and package tours are the epitome of all I eschew in travel. On this sticky Thai day I had acquiesced to my local friend’s wishes, appeasing her guilt in being unable to take off work to personally show me around and her inability to believe that just wandering the streets of Bangkok finding unexpected sights would satisfy me immensely. 

The tour left at an ungodly hour from a local hotel and promised a ride through the floating market and a trip to an elephant show. After hours in nauseating morning traffic I knew the fine print included being herded into the path of vendors whose wares and services promised to significantly increase the cost of the already expensive all-inclusive day trip, so instead of following the dutiful crowd of my fellow simpletons when the opportunity to browse came I struck off outside of the main market area hoping to find some authentic flavor.

The narrow stone bridge beckoned and I eagerly headed toward the modest ramshackle dwellings most likely empty of the very vendors I sought to avoid. My sense of direction allowed me to explore without fear of finding my way back and several blocks further on my spirits had lifted to the point where I thought the day might not be a waste after all.

Enter the dog king. Usually I enjoy local wildlife. But this mutt made me nervous. He ran straight for me across an empty lot as I passed. Of no particular breeding, his short blonde hair and wiry build combined with a few scars in non-lethal places spoke of a confident survivor. I already mentioned his balls. Seriously. Prominent. At first he just followed closely at my heels. I had a water bottle but dreaded using it—in a fight I was pretty sure he would win. The few Thai phrases I knew did not include “go away” or “bad doggie”. Occasionally he nipped at my heels but without making contact. Was this his way of establishing dominance? I didn’t really want to know, I just wanted him to go away. The whole stay-with-the-group began to gain some appeal.

Walking at my normal confident stride I hoped he would get bored and wander off. That’s when things went further south. Turning my steps back towards the market I suddenly saw a pack of about five dogs spot me and race across a bridge in my direction. Visions of me bandaged in a local hospital, rabies vaccines, stitches, tropical diseases, among other worst-case scenarios flashed through my head. 

At that moment the dog king proved his balls: he single-handedly chased off the entire pack, establishing his claim to me and their defeat. We walked on, him at my heels, me grateful yet still slightly uneasy. I finally lost him at the stone bridge—a worker yelled at him as I crossed—and I gladly rejoined my placid group. While staying with the group can be the safe way to go, the best stories lie off the beaten path. I’ve never done a package tour again. 

glimmer

I wake up in darkness
and lie down in shadows
the sun has forsaken these northern lands
the year dawned with promise
yet ends now in sadness
I've nothing to show for the work of my hands

my feet trudge through long days
filled with aimless production
a humbled dream gypsy is a sorry sight
the clock hands press onward
though I know not to where
or what lies past long days with less and less light

the fog wraps me closely
in its comforting gloom
my heart stumbles a bit at what lies in store
I have come to the end
an ironic good sign
a place to begin if I hope for more

I wake up in darkness
and risk a second glance
through fog and through shadows a star dimly gleams
when all has been taken
I'm empty and ready
the impossible shows all's not as it seems

December Days

Wrapping my arms tightly around
my knees I watch the shadows
lengthen on the sentinel fir trees,
the groping fingers of relentless
night creeping steadily up their
immovable limbs as the world
begins to bed down and another
day ends although the clock merely
heralds an afternoon hour. Caught
off guard at the sun's yearly southerly
pilgrimage I wonder anew how the days
fly and tomorrows become memories
lit by hazy golden-hour suns long
since set. Childhood summer
evenings when the sun laughed
until well past bedtime and old
dark winter days loomed merely
as a spectre of ghost stories told
around driftwood fires on the beach
seem to inhabit a tale from Arabian
Nights and I'm struck by how the
now can consume with unrelenting
absorption. The still trees lean ever
so imperceptibly into the fading light
as if to capture for a final fleeting
moment all the yesterdays that
though past are no less real in
the light of today. Balanced
on the brink of what's to
come while wrapping
arms around all that
is tightly wound
into today, I'm
grateful for
the unseen
embrace
on these
December days.

Bport or Hallmark Movie Set

In the greater Portland (OR) area there's an upscale mall that in classic prep style transports you to another world. It's Christmastime and walking into the small outdoor cross of shops one feels as if they've entered the set of a movie, probably a classic Hallmark Christmas one. The mall is clean, almost eerily, and if it's raining there are umbrellas available. Christmas music discreetly sounds through the growing gloom and the lights twinkle, not a single one burnt out.
Santa hosts children for pictures in the center but no screams are heard: decorum reigns. Shops are perfectly manicured and the smell of flavored popcorn and nuts intoxicate the senses. Many of the shoppers, perhaps browsing before a movie, are dressing in perfect fashion--understated yet elegant. Like a movie, the shoppers slip into acting as if they knew the happily-ever-after lay just around the corner, and time and money functioned differently. As if
for a moment
the uncertain
future coming
forgotten though
still a chance
laid its head
silently and
waiting for
the moment
to pass while
hope buoyed
up by dreams
untarnished
wrapped its arms
warm and safe
around waifs
longing for
a different
end to this
the story
we all must
walk out alone
the today
leading
unrelentingly
to the sure
tomorrow.

under a hazy moon

blurred eyes in a darkened room
the world goes soft like a hazy moon
when the defroster breaks
and your heart aches
try to rub the way clear
don't give into fear
is there still a way out
figure what life's about
lift your head a little bit
this isn't the end of it
where there's life there's hope
get off the slippery slope
friends may let you down
and never come around
you will love and lose
but still get to choose
wrap the broken pieces tight
limp on through the night
time will come and go
someday you will know
the past can never win
as long as you begin again
mending clearing growing
the future beyond knowing
there's beauty in the breaking
a spun glass you're making
the hotter the fire gets
the less you have regrets
however low you lie
look up at the sky
gaze on that hazy moon
tomorrow will come soon

light's end

tell me a story
at the end of the day
one that is certain
to drive shadows away
let it be filled
like the day is with light
with a promise of joy
that will ward off the night
paint faeries who dance
and a prince who is true
to fight all this evil
the maiden to rescue
the glow's fading fast
from the tall sun-kissed hill
i feel the cold creep
and my heart won't stay still
please don't pause now
when my breathing is slow
the time slips away
as the hourglass runs low
i've used the last match
brought castles from the flame
now help me to see
it was not all in vain
with so much behind
and even more at stake
i'm frozen alone
can't see which way to take
speak soft in my ear
if there's hope to be found
this side of glory
with my feet on the ground
tell me the story
make every word count
the silver cord's spinning
as my fears start to mount
the future is dim
but i hold out my hand
will you please save me
i know that you can

What's your type?

In a digression from my usual poem I offer a book review.

In one fell yet skilful swoop, Merve Emre destroys years of personal affinity for the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator in her mindblowingly brilliant work, The Personality Brokers.

Having taken the professional MBTI in undergrad and finding in it out of all other personality tests a deeper understanding of myself and why I got along with certain people better than others, I/E, N/S, F/T and P/J became conversation starters and interpersonal saviours. From fun dinner conversations with fellow INFP's (which, incidentally is the same letter combination of the authors of the MBTI) to arguments with people decrying my I-ness or P-ness, it has in many ways permeated my life until now. In her book, she explores the true history of the test and the pseudo-science that it is based upon, and she does it with such a spoonful of excellent writing that I could not but swallow it.

Emre graciously paints a biography of 2 (or 3 including Mary) women who made the MBTI a quest for their lives in order to bring understanding between people--and what is more noble than that? She almost elicits sympathy for their cause with her generous portrayal of their difficulties and determination, while the simple facts--sketchy Jungian science, making results fit the theories, and racist/sexist roots (perhaps ironically) among many--belie the validity of the test and in the end leave the reader regretfully dismissing it as a true test of personality (if there is such a thing).

Emre's voice comes through as a call to respect individualism, which I can embrace being (since MBTI is discredited) a 4 on the Eneagram (perhaps I should investigate that test as well...sigh). There is something about humanity that naturally looks for similarities and differences--enter personality testing--but the darker side of herding people into convenient boxes disallows growth and change, and has at its heart the shady world of statistics. Using an argument with personality fallacy at its heart, INFP's/4's are perhaps more drawn than others to personality tests because 1) they cannot agree with most yet 2) they long to figure out why they are so unique (and at once hope and fear they are not). The question also lingers...is the fixture on individualism a human characteristic or a Western (read: American) one? Is our need to be unique innate? But I digress.

The Personality Brokers comes at a perfect time when now, more than ever, Americans need to grasp truly what the solution is to individual conflicts. When is what bothers me about you grounds for censure and when is it merely a difference to be respected? Do our unifying tendencies as a society hide darker aspects such as weeding out misanthropes and nonconformists? While she does not answer these questions per se, she makes a profound statement about the current political climate (fitting in light of Tuesday) that is worthy of note on which I will close:

"For even today, politics remains chained to discourses of personality in ways that are as crude as, if not cruder than, Murray's assessment of Hitler. Most people want to like their democratically elected leaders or want them to be likable or, at the very least, presentable and polite--the kind of man you could invite over for a beer, the kind of woman who might read sweet stories to your children. Sometimes it seems that we are more shocked by violations of common courtesy than we are by unfair or oppressive policies."

whirling

sometimes when the light is just right
you can feel the spin of the earth
for a moment not longer you gaze above
and the clouds are standing still
while you slide towards the sea for an instant
it's an upside down world
everything and nothing matters more
the world goes strangely soft
the wind in the trees is only the breeze
of time hurtling past
as your space goes topsy turvy
you're amazed to be standing
with all the strength you can muster
you reach out a hand
hoping you're not alone in this fright
that someone feels this too
when the moment is past and you look up
the clouds are floating by
all that remains of your vertigo
are some leaves in your hair

Falling Leaves

"Are you evergreen or deciduous?"
the old man asked the scribe.
"Do your needles point up to the heavens,
or your leaves on winds ride?
Are you faithful in the summer sunshine
but fickle in winter's glare?
Or do you proudly wave green arms on high
when the world is cold and bare?
It matters but a little in the spring
if your buds are fresh and full;
much better you stay strong under snowfall,
alive despite death's pull."
He gently tapped his wrinkled forehead
and sadly winked his eye.
"Perhaps you think I'm foolish for these words--
no, pause before you deny--
but I've seen a few more seasons here below,
made sense of what is true:
In lonely or laughter, plenty or pain,
the one factor still is you."
I made as if to hazard a reply
but the old man shook his head.
"Don't speak, just think and wait a little while--
there're darker days ahead."
And with that he passed on from my sight
to what I could not tell.
I turned my collar up in the evening breeze
and watched as autumn fell.

foggy night

around the corner past the bend
and just beside a little glen
the air grows thick this autumn night
blurring the strongest headlight
when traffic on the highway slows
even the reckless caution grows
feeling mist enfold the space
somber herald of winter's face
the blurring view echoes seas
fashioning ghosts among trees
a netherworld of forgotten dreams
where all is not what it seems
where faeries, deer and danger play
and what may come one cannot say
a moment in a normal drive
so suddenly you feel alive
is this the end with hope or dread
it seemed so sure what is ahead
but now the clear air turns opaque
the surety begins to break
until the fog is gone from sight
and all is still in deep starlight
the shaken mind clears at last
forgetting what has just passed
speeding home forgetfully
afraid to dwell on what could be
around the corner past the bend
and just beside a little glen

shadows flee

come, come closer
see the sunlight
tiptoeing through the branches
diffused rays
warm the eyes
with soft serenity
echoing the peace
only the Son brings

stay, stay still
drink in the beauty
of a world at rest
day's work is done
your Home is nigh
loving arms await
dreams hover at the edges
glory beyond the vale

hope, hope joyfully
in His right hand
is abundant provision
safety from the thief
neverending bliss
even in the fight
His light breaks through
and shadows flee

Inn at Spanish Bay

The Inn greets the night like a toothy old crone dreaming bygone steaks. Pretentiously clinging to the rock face, the scattered lights belie prosperous days. The steeply stacked balconies have seen too many winters and their facades are cracked and peeling. Still yearning for the early seasons of glory, when where the road bottlenecks the Inn opened wide to enfold wave upon wave of happy holidaymakers, the signs near and along approaching highways beg trendy travellers to remember the event space and restaurant as added bonuses. But in the haze and mist of a sunset told only by the almanac, a veil slips and the Inn watches bereft as memories outweigh dreams.

unconditional identity

what if for just a moment
i stopped the questions
the constant asking
what do i want
and said
what do You want
then what if i listened
if i stopped the noise
deafening my ears
to hear what You would say
would i understand
everywhere i turn
the persuasive distractions
drown out You and all You
would speak to me
like that first serpent
they're questioning
that You are good
that Your way is peace
they hiss that You're withholding
something i need
i want
though You've never given me
cause to doubt
from before time began
yet sadly again and again
i indulge their lies
You tell me You will take care of me
yet still i stress and grasp and worry
You tell me that You will never leave me or forsake me
yet i cry with loneliness
You tell me that the path of pain bears fruit of righteousness
when i walk trusting in Your hand
yet i beg for another way
You tell me that the end of my story is glory
yet i shiver with fear at sounds in the night
how could i not choose You?
let those moments i stop
lift my hands anew
become longer and longer
string together like pearls
until
unending

iridescence
is my life
and i look like You 

just like that

just like that
the evening comes with a chill
street lights flicker early
wrap the blanket round
wasn't it yesterday
thought the heat never ended
prayed for rain
now the grey days begin
the last raspberries of summer
still burst on the tongue
flavour of warm days past

what's here was gone
what's gone will come
again

the scent of wood burning
as shadows lengthen
the wind bites
another year is dying
burying missed moments
golden happy hours
perhaps a heartbreak or two
close the door
turn off the lamp
pull the covers close
just like that

front porch

that step still creaks
the roses still sway
and the breeze is sweetly fresh
when i touch the knob
the memories flood
of a thousand yesterdays
picnics on blankets
songs by the fire
the days my skin was less scarred
i remember your laugh
the smile in your eyes
it made everything seem alright
walks in the sunset
stories at bedtime
the taste of a pancake at dawn
the smell of your shirt
the flop of your hair
i'm seeing you right where you were
as i pause on the verge
let the thoughts fly
inanimate careless things
i can't stop the past
from sweeping in strong
but i can kiss goodbye to the hurt
so bravely i come
i'll open the door
thanks for leaving the light on

newness

i'm facing today with my hands lifted high
trust falling into His arms
my eyes are wide open to all that He's done
ready for what comes next
the way that the trees wave praises in silence
seems new in the morning's light
keep silent you hills and rocky crevasses
my lungs are filled with His song
each simple smile or wind through the flowers
speaks hope to my aching heart
for He promises truth though the dark closes in
so i'll hope against hope once more
as children taste treats with superlative joy
so i shout to the heavens
i remember those times when i wept in the night
finding joy comes with the dawn
though i can't see the way from off of this ledge
His wings will carry me
and when over Jordan i finally stand
all will be by His grace
the walls will fall down and the enemy flee
and i'll bow to my knees in awe
what storm are you facing with waves billowed high
you can sleep in the bow
knowing He silences wind with a word
rest in His power and care
He promises never to let your foot stumble
your way is sure and free
awaken each morning His mercies to claim
His presence will guide you through

flashback: August 2014 - Airports

Airports are enjoyable places for me. Places filled with beginnings and endings, goodbyes and reunions. Places that hold the promise of adventures and friends to come.
They are full of harried and hopeful people, people running to a new day or away from an old. They are the embodiment of wait in all its glorious sunny-sky, blue-carpeted, magnificent drudgery.
Small kiosk shops entice over-packed and cash-strapped travellers to indulge in one last gift or souvenir, a tangible testimony to the end of a memory. Distractions abound for the wanderer facing an uncertain future.
In fact, the essence of inability to control anything once you entrust yourself to the machinations of the system transforms me into a child, content to accept whatever the journey may bring. My seat is fixed. I cannot speed the plane, and should it be delayed and I miss something, another route will be offered.
Today I joined a group sending off a friend and ended up being the object of two toddlers' affections. I walked hand in hand, talked, jumped and thrilled at the airport with a Chinese one-year-old and an Egyptian two-year-old.
Together we lived a moment of joy overshadowed by farewell and though they sensed it and clung to me I believe my exuberance and love shielded them from the despair they cannot yet elucidate.
And for me, the love of strong-willed toddlers ministered to my heart in the deep places where I am wrapping my little fingers tightly around the Infinite loving Abba as I totter on uncertain ground to new experiences.
Joy can abound when the way forward is dark.

Ich weiss nicht wohin Gott mich führt, aber ich weiss, dass Er mich führt. 

kismet

what beautiful walls you have

intricately carved with trees

distracting and protecting

from the garden within

why is there no gate

in your walls of design

i catch perfumed flowers

and i long to see more

here’s a space repaired

a door once opened in

now you’ve bricked it over

what caused the closure

where once a pathway stood

did others wander freely

this barricaded route 

would you let me in i pray

i promise i won’t trample

but carefully enjoy

each lovely secret recess

don’t you know gardens

were made to be shared

bird on a wire

the air is tingling with familiarity
yet nothing is how i remember
perched on the cusp of a new day
like a million leaps before
but there's no lion's head here
i know a leap is not enough
no bridge is hiding invisible
instead all i see is space
the wide blue yonder
i'm a bird on a wire
this time i will soar free
sprouting faith is required
beyond anything before
i'm tempted to cling
this weak deceptive wire
when my heart reminds me
each time You provided
way after way after way
how can i stay in fear
when the future is forever
now i'm swaying in hope
You will fill my eagle wings
as i fall giving You my all

shadows on the wall

insubstantial yet beautiful
flickering in golden hues
a dying day's delight
crisp black outlines
blurred by sun's last rays
as if the day were enfolding
its arms to say adieu
beckoning to a substance
just echoed not entailed
it leads me on to glory
to what will come instead
until the sun stops shining
until the night reigns full
i'll yearn to hold the hope
that calls within my soul
don't settle for the shadows
believe a new dawn waits
though soft and so inviting
they but a doorway make
i will bow in expectation
until the morning comes
this faith will never fail
beyond the veil it breaks

some gypsy thoughts

do you know what it feels 

like to be delighted in? a 

gypsy’s life is one of never 

belonging. moving constantly, 

she stays but a breath in a 

place, investing in people but 

not seeing a return. she doubts 

that should the going get rough, 

should she show her true heart, 

she would be accepted. giving 

and giving, she finds that the 

people with whom the scales 

are tipped in her favour are few 

and far between (2 have already 

departed for Beulah). perhaps, 

you say, she doesn’t see the 

sacrifices loved ones have made 

on her behalf. perhaps, you say, 

the wounds of friends who’ve 

refused to love (that being the 

only unbearable thing) are 

distorting her reality. 

perhaps. 

this weary world with all its toil 

and trouble may take its toll of 

misery and strife. the gypsy 

finds as she grows through 

heartaches that she is graced 

with the freedom to choose 

bitterness or forgiveness. 

and forgiveness is the silver 

lining on the steps that are 

growing brighter every day. 

see, she knows this isn’t home. 

and she knows that heartaches 

are a part of exile. she can risk 

anew with each new sunrise 

and face because each breath 

is a chance to press deeper into 

the realisation that she could never 

out-give the Giver of all. 

He delights in her. 

and if His gaze is the only one that 

matters—as sweet as the gaze of 

a fellow pilgrim is—she can see 

herself as beauty and a delight.

some allusions: Bunyan, L'Engle, Stuart Hamblen, Ira Stanphill, Robin McKinley

unto me

the path is long and winding
through the ever-dimming light
as i press in hope and sorrow
wandering forward into night
my thoughts are thick and splintered
when i strive to answer them
do i choose a happy ending
or will mine be one more grim
walking forward treading water
i've an ever-spinning choice
and it echoes in my mind
til i listen to One Voice
You're the Master of this moment
You're the One who knows my care
and i bow before the knowledge
that without You i'm nowhere
back and forth is my weak faith
Your Word is the better way
so i lift up holy hands
be it unto me i pray

until then

write a word just a word
a short little word
that reminds you of this moment

let it linger inside
let the word never die
the reminder of this moment

you can change with a glance
just a step in the dance
and you mark a forever moment

though it has syllables few
whatever you do
no curse can destroy this moment

a word's just the start
the hope for your heart
when it's dark after this moment

hold it close in the night
lift it up to the Light
as you walk forth from this moment

you will hold close the word
a short little word
that reminds you of this moment

sing it out

row upon row of benches
expectantly empty
as i step up to take my place
the air is a living silence
half hopeful half at peace
i close my eyes and lift my hands
for my audience of One

my voice fills the woodland space
though my breath is not my own
each note echoes endless praise
and if judged by the trees
and swayed by the breeze
one might think i had golden tones
in my theatre alone

as i open my eyes again
the spectre of spectators flees
i walk forward into today
brushing the cobwebs of glory off
i hear the whisper oh so clear
how He loves to hear me sing
when i'm just before His throne

a thousand thoughts clamour strong
the host of words spoken in passing
shackles to my soaring heart
yet when He reveals His love
prison doors swing wide and free
i can be who He says I am
no matter what may come

not there

i turned to laugh with you
as the crowd enjoyed a
witty moment and with
a shock i realized you
weren't there your chair
was missing and no one
else noticed but i saw and
felt the pang as i thought
to share a new way through
an old forest in the joy it
brought me on a sunny
afternoon as i imagined
your reaction it hit me that
i couldn't tell you because
you weren't there and i
dashed away a tear that
stubbornly ran down my
face the emblem of your
absence all too real and
heartache comes in a
thousand ways each time
as fresh as if you weren't
there the first time and i
longed to wrap my arms
around and feel you so
close but my wounded
heart knew you weren't
there and so i faced the
lonely night afresh in
the grief of longing and
loss all too lonely and
solitary without you
holding to the small
flame of hope that
someday
you
will
be
there

before the storm

the air is thick as i wipe the
sweat from my brow and
gasp in the heat of a long
day finding no solace in
warm breezes moving the
moisture around with no
relief but in the sky the
clouds are billowing and
the promise of rain comes
like a whisper in the hot
dying day and i lean in to
the distant rumble of new
thunder growing as the
wind begins to cool and
perspiration becomes
precipitation with the
coming of evening and
night's rest when in the
midst of lashing streams
i will find relief and rest
as the air clears and the
earth drinks in hope for
something new how
wonderful to find the
night's tempestuous
thrashing has shaken
the world right and i
can again breathe deep
while the weeping has
endured the night in
the morning comes joy

petrichor

when your heart's been dry and lonely
and you cannot catch your breath
when the world around
seems to drag you down
and you fear you'll miss each step
see the storm clouds billow high
where the dust blows thick and dry
though you long for rain
just to breathe again
you tremble at the flood
stand your ground and raise your arms
though the drops come fast and thick
let the hopeful smell
fill your empty well
as your parched land drinks again
through the desert or the river
not a step is unforeseen
He will lift you up
overflow your cup
and your dreams will grow again

but because

i'm falling down again
a thousand prayers unanswered
i've laboured long and lonely
seen mountains still unmoved
when days turn into months
and hope becomes opaque
my heart begins the barricade
against familiar breaks
along the road less traveled
did i miss a fork not marked
in pursuit of longings deep
did You mean something else
i'm hunkered down resigned
to mend these nets so torn
from stormy waters fruitless
when again i hear Your voice
protesting at the path
i think i know so well
these are familiar waters
but Your gaze is strong and still
so because You say so
i'll trust this bleeding heart
risk on a new adventure
You've never failed me yet

dead ends?

i've wandered here and there
seen somewhere from afar
spent golden hours waiting
trekked nowhere in a car

i've friends of many lands
some passing some more dear
even felt the parting pang
as some gave in to fear

the road's been long and winding
seemed full of ends too bent
the wind of memory whispers
a pall on time well spent

the future can seem heavy
for such a waif as i
these dreams and hopes still cherished
can with the harsh light die

i'm standing in the shadow
thrown by a lighted space
the joyful tableau beckons
but i can't see your face

what courage have i squandered
on rambling paths afield
now when a seed is needed
i hesitate to yield

so now i come again
the place all paths must find
where all my striving's useless
and all my wisdom blind

so simple yet so priceless
the moment of defeat
when all i know to do
is fall down at Your feet

You gently pull the veil
reveal each step i've trod
in spite of feeling lonely
was in the hand of God

splash

i'm watching the rain
dancing silver flashes
under an unrelenting slate sky
while the asphalt reflects
and cars splash by
like a symphony of water
the larger puddles host bursts
quick ripples of wet on wet
the noise lost to most
streams begin to form and flow
slowly into hungry storm sewers
streetlights burst to life
though the night is far off
a world lost in distraction
i pull my coast closer
wonder at the musical
peaceful roar ignored
yet beautiful nonetheless

hunger

my constant companion
sometimes near or not
speaking loudly or still
like arms wrapped tight
around my waist it's here
regardless of my moves
it pokes me and prods me
never letting me forget
that i'm neglectful
i know what could stop it
but i resist in hope
so much more waits
could i but push through
see
filling comes in many ways
i want to feast on life
more abundantly
find the fullness
that never ends
until someday this thing
stays here while i depart
and i eat food i do not know
hasta siempre

caffeine withdrawal

first i thought it wasn't so bad
the fingers of pain behind my eyes
then it spread to the rest of my head
as if a boa constrictor formed a turban
massaging the temples i prayer for release
sat warming my pain by the heat
until suddenly the escalation
came without warning in nauseous waves
over and over until i was sure i.
that's it just i and the end
for a few moments before it broke
i knew i would lose it and hurl
but body and soul are still together
may this discipline alight my spirit
it's drastic enough to do so
when all else fails take away
the crutches the habits
the noisy little foxes
make way with palm branches
though my head still throbs
i'm clinging to hope
and tomorrow's promise of less

when's day

the rain forecast
came like a mouse
timid and small and rarely seen
i read again
some words of hope
basked in a sudden sunbeam
my quiet eve
is filled with talk
friends near and far who called
i brushed the edge
of winter past
long filled with things recalled
my creaky bones
a silver hair
belie my youthful heart
yet all i see
beyond the vale
speaks joy now to impart
when dusk begins
i hear a song
beyond the shadows growing
as if a voice
strong yet still
told of a love worth knowing
i tremble like
a reed that bends
to wind's caressing force
the dance so fierce
the move so strong
a rushing river's course
could i but learn
to match the curve
to find the way to living
would i then be
one newly born
forever one forgiving

scarred

it's good friday and i'm musing on the whole forgiveness thing that the blood shed so long ago yet immediately efficacious is to me. it's especially relevant as i think about the idea of friendship and how some people, without explanation, choose to unfriend you on facebook. petty that it should bother me perhaps it still cuts especially when you think what a low quality of relationship that is in the first place (many of the "friends" i have on there i barely know) and so for someone to find my name and click "unfriend" communicates a vindictive spirit in my mind. i've only done this to a handful of people and it was mostly due to their persistence in bothering me or my heart being unable to see how they moved on with their life.
but beyond facebook i'm thinking of all those moments in the day when i have the opportunity to choose forgiveness. and it is indeed a choice and only available because He made a way. now when the hurt rises up because this or that person treats me as disposable i can remember that in the ledger of debts i don't deserve to have a 0 balance. i don't deserve to have an inheritance with the saints including my dad in glory. because of that i can offer again and again love when i feel hurt. i can choose to believe that every person can change, even the ones i'm tempted to doubt. someday that friend and i will stand before the throne with all the dross burned away and we'll worship for eternity because of those scars. in light of that this good friday i'm grateful.

mum's the word

sometimes
it's better to shut up
think a moment before you share
maybe i don't need to know
maybe the wound your words leave
isn't worth getting it off your back
perhaps it's not what you think
perhaps you misunderstood
could it be that you were wrong
all those years of smiling
when behind you disliked me
better not to share it now
leave me reeling as you feel better
since after all you realise i'm not
the person you thought i was
did i even need to know that
instead i'm left with you
not being the person i depended on
in a world already empty
of one i counted on to accept me
no matter what
is it necessary to know
you all aren't trustworthy
that i am not accepted
thanks you made the world
even smaller and sadder
dwindling the list of people
i can run to when i have a bad dream
please think about it next time
you rock the next generation's world
forcing me to be the strong one
in the end i'll be better
for having only Him to rely on
but did it have to be
the road of sorrows
could we find a way
to choose love next time
and offer grace not grief
sometimes

battle ready glimpses

i turn my fingers right side up
my palms cupped to receive
let stress and worry slip away
find faith just to believe
twisted metal and ruined flesh
a broken world is strong
but in the silence i find hope
and peace to carry on
long years of waiting facing foes
the battle is within
when real trials come i'll lift my head
i know who's going to win

i'm bowing here
but not in defeat
as one about to rise
every nerve attuned
the greater the odds
the greater His glory
unwrap the linen cloth
let fire come forth
no foe will stand
no evil prosper
as we lift up
hearts united

refracted grace

the sun was shining so i stepped
outside my door to find
the raindrops falling on my head
and messing with my mind
so back inside i went tout de suite
a little bit perturbed
my hopes quite high now soundly dashed
i sat a while disturbed
i thought to walk both here and there
not bothered with a coat
but now i found all turned about
and respite quite remote
i wanted sunshine and a stroll
the sky seemed to agree
yet froward rain seemed prevail
it would not let me be
some time went by until i roused
determined not to faze
i shook my fist up at the sky
and went out anyways
it burst upon my sodden eyes
a wonder to behold
when sunlight dances with the rain
a rainbow does unfold

leaking

my eyes won't stop leaking like a rusty faucet
sometimes fast sometimes slow
a smile now and then for all the love
a sob to saying goodbye
i'm so happy for you and joyful
i know you'll never cry again
i'm so grateful for all you were to me
just wish i had a few more years to say so
they say it goes in stages and i'll grow
to finally accept the hole that never heals
this side of the glory you're dancing in
but i feel like it's a roller coast of each one
ad infinitum in these short hours
no regrets you know i loved you so
and i couldn't have asked for a better you
i'd say as much with my arms around you
if i could one more time
you're still proud of me though in the cloud
everlasting witness of His grace to live
though memories to come will be bittersweet
without you there to share
these leaky eyes are simply testimonies
of a life well done now missed

happy new year!

today millions of people celebrate a new year on the other side of the world and for me it was just another friday albeit on the worse side work-wise but i survived and binged a bit on pizza and chocolate to make up for the powerlessness i felt at the stress caused by a self-absorbed boss and i suppose i felt a bit like that cat in the meme whinging about how it was the year of the dog and i already hate it but i don't hate it i just long to see something different in my life on this dawn of a new year something like a new job perhaps but maybe more like significance in different areas and i think there's a holy stirring to not be content with staying silent in the face of injustice and dishonesty yet learning discernment in what to say and when to say it because some people will not hear and they will rather make your life miserable but we are called to be change makers and there is change that we can effect and so i choose and i hope you do as well to be change this new year on whatever side of the world your feet are walking to stand up for the downtrodden and to seize the moments to risk death even to denounce evil because there is coming hope on a mighty wind and however He asks we can reach down and help those who are fallen to their feet and though some may ridicule us and refuse to get their faces out of their own faeces we must not become bitter or discouraged because others will say that they cannot face this job without us there to encourage them and in that moment we will feel that however small the way may be we matter in all humility it's an honour to find that you matter and that you are helping bring hope like daphne in bloom in dark winter places and though last week a warm wind blew and sunday they're forecasting snow still i can find strength to live each day that's given me knowing that even unto death He guides my steps through each new year

the drawing room

the room is full of numbers
people waiting people breathing
and the air keeps getting thicker
as i search for some way out
there's madness in the method
letting fate dictate your steps
but risking all to strike out new
there, there my neighbour hushed
such comfort in the apathy
of never asking why
such dull complacent luxury
of having second best
this rat race we're all running
hoping someone else is next
and i'm tired of the turmoil
this room is not for me
i can sense they all are staring
from their half-demented eyes
as though difficult i rise
for i must find the door
although no one else is moving
a hundred hands seem grasping me
i struggle with each step a little less
until i near the wall
the new number has been called
but i am almost free
before me is the unmarked door
i pass through wonderingly
as it glides slowly shut
a head turns

some stray budding thoughts on risk

lately the concept of risk has been knocking on my heart's door, much like the all-encompassing hand in "The Shoddy Lands" (Lewis) and i'm sure that it's in large part due to my beginning The Last Arrow (McManus).

even as i think about risks i'm afraid to take it strikes me how from the outside i might appear to be a person who laughs in the face of danger. sure, i've quit many jobs not knowing where my next paycheque will come from. sure, i've bought multiple one-way tickets having very little idea how long i would be somewhere, what i would do, and where i would go next. sure, i use directness as a defence mechanism and have been known to express strong opinions forcefully. 

confident, adventurous, striking--these are all adjectives that others have used to describe me.

yet, in many ways it's a well-crafted façade. the gypsy wanders away from risking her entire heart. when i look at my work history i find that i never tried to make a go of my passions. after all, there's safety in mediocrity. if you don't care that much, you can always walk away. 

i could excuse it by saying those that should have encouraged my passions often crushed them instead so of course i shied away from stepping out in my writing or voice. but that excuse dies in the light of His approval and His desires. and after all, i don't think any great person avoided rejection on the road to significance.

what does it mean to take out that treasure, the thing you long most to be known for in this life, the gift to this world that He gave uniquely through you, and offer it? offer it wholeheartedly, burning the bridges backward into mediocrity. 

what does it mean to be chosen for such a time as this? to say if i perish, i perish, but i must walk forward, risking this life, to obey the glorious unction that brought me into life eternal.

i don't know how many grains are left to glide downward but i do know that when they run out they become limitless. i don't know what it all looks like at the dawning of this day to risk and step forward but i do know that living in light of limitlessness is but a reasonable service of worship.

so here goes everything...

once in a super blue blood moon
i stand this side of glory
my fingertips touch angel toes
and each mistake is dust and ash

my dress is polished silver
reflecting light as moonbeams
more beautiful than a bride
i'm no longer wanted for usefulness

my heart beats wildly at peace
resting in the intoxication of love
i am my Beloved's and He is mine
heartaches are a thing of the past

i sing unabashedly
my body perfectly formed
the unique spot made for me fits
hurtful labels are left behind

once in a super blue blood moon
i see me as He sees me
bathed clean in spotless glory
and i long to bask forever

third time's the charm

you've been crowned
i see it in your eyes
the move of upturned hands
how you dance undressed
      for His eyes alone
i knew you before the gold
when only oil graced your brow
i loved you for the heart
it resonates within me too
     a worshipping king
though it tears me deep inside
that your arms know other lovers
i will be your source of joy
speak with passion and in truth
     serve with my last breath
go boldly unto glory
rule reign in His delight
your helpmeet shall not falter
set fail aside don't quit
     He only asks our all
i wonder at this grace
bear pain for others' victory
let twisted dreams now die
serve children not yet born
     for One to bring us hope
yes you've been crowned
i share you with a nation
but His word will never end
hand in hand we will stride
     into the promised land

a whole heart

i nuzzle down in this new thought
You made me complete
when i feel empty, torn and lost
You say i am found
though all around the storm waves roll
and i can't see the shore
i cling to this when all else fails
Your love full stop
i've toyed with labels others placed
thought maybe it is me
yet You see me in perfect Light
so i can walk on seas
i don't know how to make life work
my steps so often fail
but i know You and so i go
although the way's obscure
some days i fall and some i cry
yes even wish to die
but You hold every shining moment
not a one is hidden
oh help me then live in this hope
You don't make mistakes
for when time comes and i find home
Your arms will welcome me
my whole heart find the resting place
in You it's always been

no going back

no tree blocks my view in either direction
the landscape from here is clear
no excuse remains to temper my choice
i know where i go from here

behind lies the way my feet know so well
ahead is uncertain ground
though tears lined the way i knew every bend
i'm not sure what now will be found

to stay or retreat may be safer for now
but death in what matters most
to follow His lead into glorious pain
in His strength i alone can boast

my decision was made quite some time ago
so this crossroad is but a pause
like the garden i ask is there some other path
but know what the only way was

so i hold nothing back and lay all aside
for the glory yet to come
one step at a time and each getting brighter
as i join the holy anthem

the road ahead

it's come once more a year anew
and all the signs cry that it's true
the past has passed no more to come
what's done cannot be now undone
but hope shines through the cloudy day
the future's bright though come what may
i cannot see the twists and turns
except above a fire burns
the cloud by day the burning night
and hosts around to fight the fight
i plan i walk and hope to see
yet know His purposes will be
and in that place of perfect rest
the new year holds the very best
only He can make right past wrong
in Him alone i can be strong
come rain come storm and even pain
my heart shall sing His praise again
throughout today until tomorrow
in joy and loss in love and sorrow
i'll praise for all what lies in store
each moment and forevermore