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Just So

And has there ever been, from birth
Any moment, or breath,
Some collision of word, or flesh,
That was ever anything of worth

Without You wrapped in it?

We dig our gardens, our graves,
Passing our rote to little minds,
Studying tides, and stars, and all kinds
Of grasping, assuming we’re saved

By our tasks and do we miss You?

Let the floods commence
Eroding our mud breaches
Folding in on what we teach is
Our greatest recompense:

The surviving members of creation.

You will come with mighty roar
Like the oceans we adore
And our proud knees will drop
And our hard hearts will stop in our proud chests

On the dry shores of our vested interests.

Will we forget our complex knots?
Our webs of assent, the tangles
Of all the wisdom we’ve mangled
And all the lies we’ve bought,

And peddled.

Even so, Lord Jesus, come.


Pinot

How I love
These nights,
These numbs,
And they say I step out

But I’ve been on both sides

And the miles always come
They fly,
They fail
To change us

Which we’re told should come

But maybe who we are
Was always the point
Was always the cause
Of spilled wine on the white linen

Of childhood dresses

And holding something rare
I can see
That you cannot
Maybe makes it worth

Stained Easter frills

And this isn’t poetry,
But it’s reality,
Life in symmetry:
Kinetic misery

And phonetic currency

But alms buy no bread
And I fell on this hard time
Honestly,
And against God only

Have I sinned.

I never fit
Into the cardboard boxes
Under freeways
And legalistic leeway

That imprisons in ripped packing tape.

Take me for what I am
Or else be honest,
For you can’t survive the moments
That birthed me, bred me,

And delivered me to now.


Sparrows and Sorrows

We toiled at the crossing,
Long days ere we deployed
With frantic errands fit between,
But our work became our joy
Preparing to cross the bar,
To meet our fellow brothers
Co-heirs adopted by our Father,
Born from different mothers.
Embarking with meager belongings,
But carrying hearts full brimmed
We eagerly journeyed through
A stranger night, soft dimmed,
Barely closed eyes opening
Onto a day born new
All the wonder of our hope
Painting a lovely view.

I cannot know, looking back,
What caused the quiet schism
Was it cultural habits of expression,
Stiff-lipped stoicism,
Prejudice or snobbery,
Or some other slight assumed
Caused by some prior phantom
Also born from my mother’s womb.
Their call extending to every nation,
But touched with contempt for mine
As the bonds of brotherhood dissolved,
So also our grander design,
And our love evaporated
On the cold and distant shore,
And our full hearts were emptied,
And our value full ignored.

So I call on you, our father,
Who gives life unto the dead,
And you love your varied children,
To the very hairs upon our head
Mend the boats we sank,
And purge our dark intentions
Teach us to love beyond our faults,
Our prejudice and apprehension.
Our value solely found in you;
We are lovable because you’ve loved
And all that’s worthy in any flesh
Is given it from above

And how I know you care for them,
And how you care for me,
But oh the depth of salty tears
Filling this expanse of sea!


August Ruminations

Here sits the castle of my soul,
Touched by rot and ruin,
Cramped and narrow,
Housing doubts, fears, confusion
Standing room only

This aged mansion
Can’t hold the immensity
The vast expansion
Or colored intensity
Of a summer sunset.

Man from clay,
But here I lie, on earthen hill,
My corridors splay
Insufficient to fill,
To swallow the ground beneath

Incapable of cleansing my stains,
Or repairing my breach,
Created: I cannot contain
These elements beyond my reach
Beyond my reason

But even they have a first:
God’s handiwork unfurled.
He fills to burst the
Confines of this world
That cannot contain Him.

And how small am I?
Woven in the womb’s darkness
By His delicate design
And omnipotent sparks
Of fragility and fate

And I ask Him to abide
In this broken abode.
I ask Him to hide Himself inside,
This God I know
Of fire and radiance

I ask Him into this crumbled pittance
Decaying more each season,
Because denying Him admittance
Is no small treason,

This Creator who can neither be contained,
Nor restrained,
Nor ever moves He in vain.


Rebel Yell

My morose flows
Like a shallow stream carving,
A waking dream,
A beggar starving,
But there’s a well in me
Swelling waters in the deeps of me
That ripple insurrection
The deepest introspections
Dredge my recklessness:
I won’t let this mess own me
I won’t succumb quietly
Shaking these lies I’ve invented,
I’ve invited in to stay,
And made their bed
I’ve fed them my hours,
My future, my vital powers,
But I’m done, I scour them off my walls
Because all this-
It’s just a distraction
A fraction of my purpose,
And there is a reason I wait,
Why every few seasons
I shake off my possessions,
Reminding me I’m not what I have,
And it doesn’t have me.
I am free
Because of the word He has spoken
I am broken,
And unbreakable

Because He made this knowledge,
This vision, this raging existence
Unshakeable in Himself.
I am who I have,
And He has me.


Me ‘n Matthew

I’ve succumbed to this infirmity,
Like spiritual leprosy,
Slipping beneath the pallor,
Aching in my joints:
It only hurts where I bend.
And I’m numb again,
My nerve-endings fall mute
But I have called to You

And You are willing.

I hold my breath.
Still on my bed, like stone death
And my fears crush my feet,
Clinging like gasoline and smoke
Paralyzed under the weight
Tormented by what I can’t escape
And I can’t get up, get away,
I can’t crawl to You,

But You will come; You will speak.

Tossed in feverish apparitions,
Bound by my inhibitions
Fueled with burning skin
And thought and imagination,
What is true, objective reality,
And what is birthed inside me
In the flame and misery
Of these spiritual infirmities?

But I believe You’re able:
Touch these hands
Set this fever to flee
So I can stand, so I can see

So I can serve Yours as You’ve saved me.


Strike Anywhere

This under-the-bushel life:
This hush-or-you’ll be seen,
Silent in the strife,
Lucid in the dream,
Choking-out-the-light life

When I should let it burn.

This habit I’ve worn,
These lies I’ve swallowed
Hiding what’s torn,
Filling what’s hollowed
By grief or scorn

With whatever can’t burn,

I keep the wick trimmed
Waiting for an invitation,
But when beckoned, I dim
In reckless hesitation
And sin

Because the light burns

But these dark nights
Call my name
And if light gives sight,
Bring on the flame
It’s time to ignite

My resistance and my purpose
To see what burns,

And what remains.


Self-Deskovery

I miss the road trips
Destination: Me
Always looking to find,
Looking to see,

Look at me now.

I’ve been here,
Been grounded,
But in my stillness
I’m astounded

Hounded by me.

This pen doesn’t aid,
Doesn’t trace my lines
Or uncover my being;
It just reminds me

Of the kinds of me
I’ve already found.


The End

Under my skin,
Within my skeletal frame,
Buried with no marker,
No memory, no name

It aches.

All the work I’ve done
Overturning stones
Searching the cause
Underneath these bones

Unearthing rubble

In my chest
This heart beats,
It bleeds, it calls,
It repeats

My one song.

I mourn
What shouldn’t be broken
The ferocity of fallenness
Like a raging ocean

Devouring

A thorn in all flesh,
Marring perfection,
Worming underneath
Like some hideous infection

I weep

In the face of beauty,
In the eye of wonder,
My heart still bleeds
For all sunk under

The silent waves.

For the imperfections
In beauty acute,
Nearly imperceptible,
But never mute,

Never unsung.

For the ones fallen
Between the cracks,
Unsought, unknown,
Un-intact

I sing

In their company alone
I breathe
I look for the reason
We ever grieve

Even in our joy

A joy that waits,
Incomplete
Until the last heart
Repeats no more.


New Hope

I can see from my little window
The sun rising in pale pinks
Over the mountains of West Virginia
And I think of Your mercy.

How petrified I became
As the day drew near
Knowing the risk and pain
The real fear of both.

How quietly You speak to my soul,
In pale pinks you hum
Such gentle tunes extolling
Your love: the sum

Of all Your dealings.