Tag Archives: Confession

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.

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.


I was born into the flow,
The water from my mother’s womb
Rushed forth, followed by the tune
Of all the words I know.

And this river is always pounding
The banks of who I am,
Destroying any dam
Diminishing it’s expanding and expounding

By the time you came along
To a waterline risen
I was completely given
To the current’s song

And you supported me with one word,
But belittled me with the next,
So I read your subtext
And remained unheard

Eleven more years, the waters kept rising,
As we grew into each other,
You were comfortable with the smother,
And I’m skilled at compromising

But the waterline rose all the same
So you adjusted the box you keep me in,
I’m careful where I seep when
I walk around in your name.

Until the day we broke and
All of you entangled
In my flow, suddenly strangled
And forced me unspoken

But we worked our way back again,
I left my words on the stagnant floor
Growing up, heading inshore,
To walk in the land of men

And I’ve barely written since
The tide dried, words don’t persist,
But we still talk like they exist
In the present tense.

Yesterday I called it my work, to hear you say
“If it’s work, you need a new hobby,”
Somehow, it embodied
These years I’ve underplayed

I didn’t wince, or shirk,
I stood erect to face you
To speak my breakthrough
“It’s work; it’s my life’s work.”

All at once, I could see
How simple, how true,
And it doesn’t belong to you
And it doesn’t belong to me

I’m dammed
But it isn’t your fault
I’ve kept sealed my vault
I’ve held this ocean in my hand

Raging in my pen
All my life, I never called it by name
I looked for someone to blame
For the fear I live in

I made you my moon,
Giving you power over the sway
Of in and out, the tidal play
Where my words commune

But these words need the sun
Gold on shimmering waves
Daylight saves
And night should be overrun

But if I succeed,
Whatever success entails,
Or if I fail
The work I achieved

Is my legacy.

Oh Father,

I silenced myself
I shut up my mouth, my pen,
Because of the sorrow in my soul
I feared the sin in my heart

I stopped proclaiming

You freed me to speak
The stagnant pool of death
The bitterness of my bones
Rotting my flesh from inside

But You have brought my fear to point

You have goaded me to fear You,
Healing my decaying flesh
With obedience in humility
Bringing refreshment to my bones

And I honor You

With this body of death
That You alone make alive
I lean on You to loose my tongue
To praises as You guide me

My King Eternal

On Being Unlovable

I was never
Your moon and stars
You spoke plainly in the woo,
I never meant that to you,
And you were always ready
To let me go

I was never
Ready to leave
Until our last rotation
When years of instigation
Leading to rejection
Suddenly made sense

I was never
For you to pursue
You kept me subdued
Because it was easy
And fun

I was never
The problem
I was once pretty enough
To scrape together some love
If love had been the goal
Or possibility

I was never
Seen by you,
And now, so close to goodbye,
You suddenly begin to try
To put away the tools of your trade:
Isolation and indifference

I was never
Your moon and stars,
Merely the one you’d chosen
To keep forever waiting frozen
With all your other possessions
For the warmth of your touches

Meted out like alms to the poor.

Hello, Again

It’s time to reopen
Metered communication
The celebration
Of the mystery of language
And enduring relationship,
Beyond numbing paralysis
Or faithlessness.

It’s time to heap coal
Into the faith,
To fill this space
With the heat waves of hope
Draped in robes of grace
Unearned, but unwasted
On the sole basis

Of His interventions.


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.


I have worshipped you
And no fissure was wide
Enough to threaten
Your enthroned pride.

I’m still quick to bow,
But my eyes are open
To the strength of the vessel
I’ve stored all my hope in

Wandering allegiances,
Mobilized on all fronts,
Laterally exposed,
But you stood unified once,

Or so I believed
From my prostrate view.
Was this dangerous pride born
In my exaltation of you?

To believe you can submerge
Your hand in the flame,
To remain with what burns,
But escape more the same,

And you have already changed,
But your eyes cannot see
How you flicker like flames
For and against me

Like our kingdom could never
Be destroyed by fire,
Like you are invincible
Against your own desires

And I was wrong to return,
To bow low my will,
To allow you to forget:
All that breathes is fragile.

Let the Redeemed of The Lord Say So

How tremulous are the times,
These smooth faced crimes
We cultivate as pets
Feeding crumbled regrets
Until our hands are stained bare
Our ignorance declares
Our bloodthirsty guilt.
We are born to wilt,
Screaming wild from the womb
Against our descent to the tomb
Fascinated with all that lies beneath,
Sheep with carnivorous teeth
Tearing at the soft flesh
The crave and the thirst enmesh
And each entanglement, syrup sweet
And each digestion, a mortal defeat.
On our mounds of filth, we stand
Making worship, inherently hand in hand,
An abstraction we practice alone
Bowing at our own thrones
Bowing, but never to sit
Playing the king, but unfit
To reign.

You reign
Holy and blameless
Ever shameless
Even against our mess,
This howling failure to confess
And repent, and consent to life.
Taking the enemy for wife
Restoring order to the disjointed
Renewing Your anointed

Who were the worst of the lot.