My life has crossed a vast terrain,
A train through many foreign stations
And very little still remains
From the dawn of my creation
That world has aged and passed away
While the train increased in speed 
I have more now than I ever hoped, 
But remember my basic needs
When my journey began in lilting motions
As I waited for it to end
And all I had, all that stays the same,
Was some paper and a pen,

And my Eternal Friend. 

These bizarre days crawl
Like a fat mosquito
Stalled between the humidity
And his next meal
While I slap at the place
He used to drink.

Sweat beads and races
Like a townhall turned
Into an angry mob
Running with no sense
But urgency
And I scratch the itch.

The sun sets.
Wind gusts around me
From the broad face of the sea,
It’s a cool comfort
To be still,
And to borrow the motion

Of a thousand year-old wind.

I want to sing a new song
As this moment demands-
As a family, the Church,
A citizen in this foreign land
I want to stand for
All that’s good and true.
Seeing these strands unravel,
The former days now through,
Leaves much to be woven
Into the fabric of our age
No commonalities in our common ground
Soft answers shall sing through the rage
A brand new song.

Our God is good and true.
He establishes and directs our steps.
Forced to choose, we renounce
The dalliances which crept
Into our work, our worship,
Our endless days at play
His patience built skills into us
Preparing us for this day.
He will lead us to stand, to march, to sing
Through and against the railing night
Perfecting, confirming, strengthening, establishing,
He will set our course aright
The Almighty God of Truth.

Our first fetal cry
Is not for understanding,
Nor accomplishment
In desperate strains demanding
Comfort, security, nourishment,
Until we may stand on solid feet
Shoulders to heaven
Walking the paved street
Of history in steady gait,
Taming the wild fields
Of the unknown future
Our fetal wails must yield
To the corridor of humanity
Briefly in scream, or song,
Or shout, or silence,
In cold isolation or dense throng-
We insist we must be heard
In this, our briefest eruption of time
Our pulse as our metronome
Wonderment in immense design
First steps beyond the bassinet
Our voices harmonize
With all the souls engaged before
In this momentous enterprise
Striving with all to mitigate
Our autonomy and our vassalage
The struggle, the sorrow, the song:
Our greatest irony and privilege

The complexity of our passage;
The simplicity of our cries.

Darling little songbird
Caught in the endless roar
Of man grinding his machines,
Progress and riot and war-
Such a pure melody,
Can it matter from whence you sing?
The dawn of life
Cradled hollow bones on wing
Winds of change, blindly persistent
Lifting you ever higher
Frail lungs expelling praise
Beauty born of fragility to inspire
Love in kind, like from like-
Whether caged or free
Beloved little bird
When God formed me
Did He think of you?
One moment, we both in flight
Turn to the sun,
The warmth of light
Carries us both home
Past the cruel usurpations
Of sandcastles and capture the flag
Slavery by innovation
Simplicity builds our home
Nesting in the songs that precede us
And in our timeline rooted
No din may impede us.
The sun will rise golden and sure.
Kingdoms will rise and crumble
Names will be heralded, feared, forgotten.
The mighty will run, and stumble,
And fall to gray, and spots, and death.
Yet you will sing
Your faithful opus raising
An anthem to our Creator King

Who was, and is, and is to come.

Motionless, I’ve also paused in my tracks
To watch the woods fill up with snow 
The flitting beauty falls to rest in stacks
And this one thing I’ve seen, I know, 

God makes everything beautiful in its time. 

My children laugh like the north wind
Pinked noses exhaling joy in play
In the fresh refrains their voices send,
I remember sorrow is passing away

Reeling in death throes against the night. 

Already the carriage wheels roll the earth
Draped in layers of silken shroud
Carrying our strain and sin from birth
To sink beneath the cold, dark ground

Fresh snow momentarily covers the wake.

The life that rots, the worm that eats,
All these lay buried underneath the vow:
God will never taste defeat;
He is working even now

To restore the purity He made at first.

Push back
Against the screaming, seething dark
Shadows scratching free
In tooth and wail, embark
From the cavernous souls indwelling
A self-perpetuating night
Dealing in energy, trading days
Forcing the flame to open, too bright
Too hot, too attractive
For the moths in fluttering arrays
Who bank their potential
To invest in the day after day after day

Push Back
Against the gravity of the void
Alice ever falling, aware and on task
While madness unmasked is employed
In measured ampoules by
Some ancient apothecary meted
Dissolving under the tongue
Sanity diagnosed and treated
With the ecstasy of reaching too high
Grasping beyond a standard stay
Brighter until the wick surrenders:
Burns outright or fades away

Push Back
Against that inky wave.

My lungs are too heavy to breathe, 
But I pull against the drag
Sucking in this sudden Spring
While winter is here
And winter is coming
I close my eyes
Inhaling the promise
The sun reminds me
Seasons change

I’m not strong enough
But is this beyond the One
Who framed seasons?
Let each breath be Yours
Pick me up, carry me through
So I may hold hands
And sing with these laden lungs
To You.