When war breaks forth unwary,
Under wail and armor-weighted,
Burdensome, but necessary
Before the horrors perpetuated
Bloody ideals in high-array stood
Man in fist against fellow man,
Evil vandalizing the good,
Sometimes by your own hand
The initial draw of blood
Rends your cells in twain
Knees and vomit in the mud
Necessary, but never again!
Yet the next day passes as the day before
Inches won by lifetimes
You make a home within the gore,
Within the necessity of your crimes,
Waiting for the relief so deeply craved
Brought by precious and costly Peace
Whose heraldry dissolves all depraved
And allows for violence to cease.

In hope, through advancing stages,
Lady Peace keeps soldiers warm,
But the longer the fighting rages
How abstract becomes her form!
When the fighting continues through
Blazing suns and shifting stars
Til it’s no longer the thing you chose to do,
But has become the thing you are,
Your gaze narrows earthward
At the casualties that fall;
In your gut, you know you’ll never trust her,
Nay, nor recognize her at all!

Have I craved
Corporeal solutions
To spiritual problems?
Divine diminutions
For temporal relief?
May it not be so.
Lead me on the path
Where I should go.

By Your hand and staff
I will follow.

All other ground
Slips away in the tide,
But You remain,
In You I hide,
While the sun
Warms my skin
Because You rise to save
You defend me again
When every breath
Conspired to destroy
You smuggled me to freedom
Resuscitating joy,
And I trust You.
I believe Your promises are true.
Whatever tomorrow brings,
I belong to You.

Between us, for You,
I reserved the space here.
So let me say it true
Since, of late, I’ve been unclear:
You are supremely just,
And You have done no wrong.
My heart still trusts.
Reward and recompense still belong
To Your designations.
You alone know to guide
The happenstance of Your creations;
No one else is fit to decide
By blind eyes and deaf ears
When You alone can see,
And pour grace upon grace, year after year,
For generations, through all human history,

And though You slay me,
Yet will I trust You still,
Because even in Your fury
Your love girds Your will

Patiently, wisely, graciously;
And You are not against me.

The family tree
That grows no good
In an enchanted forest,
A haunted wood,
Every branch sits
Stark and fallow
Stretching out
Hungry as gallows
Crooked finger-twigs
Like razor-features
Scratching to devour
The gentle creatures

Who wander too close.

I live here now
At ground zero,
In the hollowed how,
The earthen barrow
I once called home.

A life seemingly certain
Toppled by trouble
I hang tattered curtains
Inside the rubble
Unsure where the windows were.

And every cloth
Is a funeral shroud
Even the moths
Are too proud
To feast at the sepulcher.

Before the shell landed,
I sang to You
Now grief, heavy-handed,
Leaves me mute.
Sing over me again.

By my reflection
All is consumed.
Help me see Your resurrection
From inside the tomb

Build me again.

Unless the Lord builds the house,
those who build it labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
the watchman stays awake in vain.

Psalm 127:1

Oh, that I could have been
As wise as You;
Walking among men
Knowing who to choose
Knowing the one You loved most
Would love in kind;
But I am a fool
Who was born blind.
Was it a solace to know
From the very first day
That it was Judas among You
Destined to betray?

This country girl
Has walked down a lifetime’s worth
Of winding country miles
I’ve paved the earth
With footfalls and freeverse
In search of reasons to stay
And found down every lane
A reason to run away.

In city lights and cement gardens
I’ve sung against the noise
The old country’s songs
And my lonely voice
Floated to heaven
Before it dispersed
I’ve lived a life of baby steps:
Unapplauded and unrehearsed.

The order of broken things
Leaves a lot of ground to cover
I collected no souvenirs.
I took no lovers.
But time took its toll on me
As I searched the din
For some pleasant land
In which to begin.

Asleep for a time
In the middle of my roam
I dreamt of a family,
A husband, a home,
But morning broke
It all to bits.
Reasons don’t matter anymore
In a life adrift.

And if I now hope to arrive
It’ll have to be as the crow flies.

I’ve always loved the snow
You paint in pure white
Over the dirty streets, the scarlet sins,
And branding blights,
With fresh hope.
In the pale light
I remember no matter the scar,
The struggle, our plight:
You alone can make all things new.

Grant me the serenity
To accept the world I indwell
All I can’t fix or change,
And the courage as well
To look at hope unflinchingly
And take one step towards the hell
With a vision of heaven.
Grant me the wisdom to tell
Between acceptance and defeat.

And if it pleases You,
Make me new as the fresh snow.

I am where I have always been:
Inscribed on the palm
Of Your powerful hand;
I wait in Gilead for balm
To soothe the wound I can’t understand.

You speak into what is not,
And the impossible bursts forth
Like a fresh fawn eagerly trots;
You point the seamen to true north
By distant, burning blots.

You breathe, and wind troubles the waves,
Babies inhale and cry.
You tell us to be brave
Knowing we will suffer and die,
Because You know beauty outlives the grave.

You wait quietly by my grief
With a capacity to feel beyond my own
You cement my belief
While all I’ve known
Becomes the carousel of a thief.

And my heart is shattered.
My tears have replaced my song.
My love is purple and battered
With nowhere to belong:
The home I built is scattered.

But I know I still reside
Where I’ve always dwelled
Where I always run to hide
From the fumes of hell:
I curl up inside

The palm of Your tender hand.