Category Archives: Passion

Repent

What great evil is this?
I’ve contrived in my heart
Against my One Redeemer
Who scattered my slavers apart,
And tore open my path
So that I may depart

Not alone, but step by step
Tucked inside his wondrous care
Who shakes the earth with fear and awe,
Of whom the power of every age beware,
Yet He protects, as promised,
As He leads my soul from here to there.

I am a grumbling slave,
Who cannot compare to His majesty,
Who cannot deserve His intercessory,
Who offers him no loyalty,
But tastes and protests His blessed grace
With a broken tongue of blasphemy.

The call to hope, the mandate,
Which my stubborn heart resists
With accusatory fears aplenty
Under which my faith desists
Is no less than honestly acknowledging
Who He Is.


Tough and Tender

I return to You time and again
Because I wander;
Because of the hope
And the joy I have squandered.

How can this vulnerability,
This seeping, desperate trust
Clutched while falling,
Be any form of tough?

How can I reintroduce hope
Into this myopic entity
Living in the failures
Of a brief eternity?

How can I hope to be resilient
When I barely stand
As a crumbled ruin
In a forgetful land?

How, under expectation of sorrow,
Can tenderness share
The hope of joy, faith in tomorrow,
Grace that can bear

The weight of every yesterday?

I must change my vision,
And my line of sight.
Tender enough to listen;
Tough enough to fight,

To never recoil
From the pain of what’s right.


Freedom

I am waiting to breathe
Waiting to die until I can see
A watery horizon,
The layers of wizened
Peel off under the sun
I want to feel the ocean
Smell the salt water in my face,
Listen to its metered race,
Crescendo, crash and rescind,
The passion of the end
Building a new beginning

Each wave brimming with eternity,
and release.


Pocket Watch

Each night he takes him in his hands
The lump of cold, dead stone

And he winds him up, and winds him up,
So we are never alone.

And I hear him ticking, ticking, ticking
Across the empty space between us,

Like a tyrant laughing, laughing, laughing
Forever undefeated

Reminding me each second
of the victories he’s wrought

When we thought all battles ended,
And no wars again be fought

This timeless wonder in his palm
Splits seconds, so divisive.

He laughs, he ticks, he gloats
Unceasingly derisive

And I am wild to visit harm
Upon that little metal piece

To end his reign, to end his lie,
To give us some release.

Wild to pierce his skin, and smash his face,
To rip out all his sense-

Oh, the damage I could wreak
Would all be self-defense!


Metamorphosis Hurts

Cells burning as they change
From one substance to another,
The New reacts as foreigner-strange
While all The Old gets smothered

The pain of the day’s demise
Darkening once before the morn
One black cry as the familiar dies
And the unknown gets reborn.


Bricolage

There is a wildness in me
An ocean in a bottle
With a moist cork, I see
I stand a suppressed model
Of practicality,
Revving for full throttle
But for the wake of brutality
And all forgot, all
Sacrificed to creativity,

But there is something wild in me
And still it grows, and still I thirst
For open fields, and free
Paints, and notes, and words
And time and space to feed
What be the best or worst
Or wildest escapee-
All unheard, and all unversed,
La Pensée Sauvage will be.


End Game

Am I fundamentally the same I have been?
If this is the wind-down into the end,
What has remained, and what has been changed,
And what should be changed again?

Have I done all that I could do,
All that only I could do?
Or do I pass the flame, less my name,
Along to someone new?

Am I a pitcher pulled from mound,
Or did I make the final inning?
There are a thousand ways to stop a race,
But only one of them is winning.


The Summer End

I miss the night-summer air
Electric against my skin,
Breathing in, and then exhaled
With no pain in the taking
And mischief in the excess
Making a tapestry of mess
We weathered with our youth
Our bad decisions
Uncouth in our derision
Wild in our eager anticipation
Of whatever lay open
In our next breath.

I miss the world unroofed
And untamed
While I was still unchanged
By creature comforts.


Somnambles

Pain rouses me from slumber,
Keeps me awake to talk,
And I lumber into conversation,
Too tired to politely walk,

And if You want me to hear
I am glad for Your attention,
Only open my ears
If You mean my comprehension

But You alone are wise;
If need be
Open just my eyes.


Only the Lonely

Nothing to offer,
So little to give,
Overextended by every
Last day I have lived
And would you forgive me
If I sank in deep?

Latching on secure
Where there is no clasp,
Belittling the future
To exploit the past
And I cannot grasp the reason
I remain another season

I wait for a beacon to guide me.