Father, forgive me
For voicing my accusations
Where I hold no ill will
I am grateful for the occasions
That have woken me to reality
And propelled me into the fathomless
Depths of faith-sight and wild trust:
The public death was a catalyst;
The pain beyond my thresholds
But You held me in the grave,
And You hold me in my new steps-
Only in Your hands can I be brave.
I’ve spent all my years
As a terrified little thing
The crushed flower that blooms;
The caged bird that sings
And I face the storms alone
I know there aren’t any in my corner,
But You lead and guard my steps
As I march amongst foreigners
An unknown substance.
I feel You in my soul
And I can be strong in You-
In You I am whole

Even after mutilation:
Public humiliation

Your promises rage louder than these.
Only never leave me,
Never be

Silent again.

In the throes of dismay
I couldn’t see through
I couldn’t imagine the pain
From a birds’-eye view
I underestimated
The things You can do.

I repent.
I exalt You. I yield to You.

I’m still en route
And the journey is hard.
I’m still alone,
Stretched thin and on guard,
Publicly condemned,
Mocked and discarded
My vulnerabilities ridiculed;
Any strengths disregarded

But you establish my humble steps
And keep me from snare and stumble.

You lead me through a foreign wilderness
In more than tenderness,

By the light of Your great hope.

Creation
A single, multi-faceted
Exquisite masterpiece
We touched with sin and shattered
Light and sound and matter
Into fragments

We can’t process.
Refracted, but entangled- intact.

We took His language
Spoken in unity
And shook the vowels free
Scattered and muted, seemingly,
Yet His word returns complete
Every atom a divine syllable undefeated

Rejoining like raindrops,
Restoring,

Never returning void.

The oaken trunk
Spills to ground
Like auburn tresses
Curling round
While lifting up
Vibrant green arrays
The magnificence
On full display

I thought that I should never see.

A page turns
In the most wonderful sense
I didn’t come here under
Any false pretense
So I’ve reminded myself
In metronomic echoes all day:
I have a right to be here;
I am invited to stay.
Between the tall brick barracks
Along the slope of the greens,
I unfurl my soul under the
Ambitious reach of the trees
My ears relax into
The soothing symphony of sound
Global dialects singing
The broad world is round
No sides or angles
From which to wage war,
Just one sphere of souls
Standing before One Lord,
As He created it to be.

What a miracle to be standing here.
After all I’ve seen, all it cost,
To have a gained a Heavenly Father
Who can restore what is lost

Was worth the journey.

Some things can’t be broken.
But when the quakes settle
The rubble of all the shattered
That could never have remained
Yields to The Eternal:

God Unshakable,
Transforming
Corruptible into incorruptible,
Temporary to permanent
Providing a way to being The Way

God Unbreakable,
Able to withstand every blow
Without yielding an inch
Ever advancing
Through all time and flesh.

God Most Worthy and Most Wise!
All that must remain:

Surrender and Adoration
Gratitude and Allegiance

Resurrection and Embrace.

There’s something else here
I can feel, but cannot see.
Some warmth or kindness;
It reaches for me
With phantom hands
And I grab at the ether
To steady my descent
But plunge beneath for
Lack of tactile manifestation,
The figure you turn to see in flight
Vanishing immaterial:
A benevolent gaslight.
But the tiny patter of raindrops
Leaves ripples in the peripheral
Of my reality, of my intuition,
Their micro-explosions visceral
Like an echo that returns changed,
Resonating in the deep.
They tap lullabies on my window pane
While in the cold I sleep.
This spectre is better than I
At hide and seek;
Better, by far, in the hide.
Is it reluctance? Resistance?
Does the kindness flow
From perfunctory obligation,
Or does it stay in shadow
To feel philanthropic?
Perhaps it may rightly believe
I am already a lost cause.
Virtue and vice both deceive.

Maybe it’s because the kindness
Knows when it extends,
Connection requires response,
And I have nothing to expend

That I haven’t already spent.
I have nothing else to give,

And everything costs something.

You said:

Let there be Light

And there was.

I pray,

Let there be Love.

So many here trample my soul
With presumptions and rejections.
Before this place, when I was inside,
Didn’t I see the broken? Didn’t I let them in?
Because You are no respecter of persons,
And they could see beyond their noses.
I am barred here, labeled, held outside
One of Your storm-torn, trampled roses.
Comparing myself to the beautiful
Isn’t an object of gloat;
I defend my little value here,
Because I cling to anything that floats.
Sunken people always do.
Let love melt this cold-hearted place.
Dissolve their foolish pride.
Wrap Your bride in spotless lace,
Defend her honor, lift her face,

Because the idea of such love
Originates from You.

Remember Your betrothed.

Father of Mercies,

My heart has been broken.
I don’t remember
What the pieces looked like
Intact and assembled.
When the one I once loved betrayed
Thrusting me into danger,
I leapt into the arms
Of surprised strangers
Whose footing wasn’t sure.
Down I spilled.
After falling to rest
All the graves I’ve tilled
Have yielded the crops
Of my empty bones,
And the absence of mourners
Shows a life wrung into alone:
Exposed, hidden, exposed, hidden-
Like a lighthouse before dawn.
Lacking special devotion;
Not unloved, but withdrawn

But I don’t want to be angry.
I don’t want to carry my grievances.
Help me drop my stones;
I’d taken leave of my senses.
You came to save, not judge
All that’s required is belief
I believe;
Heal my grief
That leads me to look down
Or feel something inexplicable
Like doubt in Your promises;
Disloyalty is despicable
To the Most Faithful One.
Help me believe through and through;
Help me inspire belief;
Let others see proof of You
In the undulating mess of me.

Because You love us.

You really, really love us
With special devotion.

It’s bizarre
Stumbling into a waltz
Mid-song, mid-step,
Uninvited with all your faults:
Clumsy toes, lack of rhythm,
Ignorance of the dance,
Rote outdated maneuvers,
Misplaced stances
While all the other dance partners
Know each other, know their moves.
They laugh at you as you trip by:
The tongue that cannot find the groove.
Sometimes it stings, and you weep.
Some days you shuffle on numb.
It isn’t their fault
You’re the sore thumb
The left foot.
But on the off chance
You may find the music,
There’s nothing else to do but dance

Alone, offbeat, the best you can muster.