Tag Archives: truth

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.


But Now; But God

Truth, applied again, like balm to a sear
Burned by my sin, myself, my fear,
When this brilliant ray of hope appeared
All my failures somehow met:
My pale faith, my proclivity to forget,
Folded into my profound debt
And paid in full by His profound gift.
My sin won’t force me to be dismissed
Because His sacrifice will ever exist,
And He is faithful, and has made it just
To forgive and cleanse my muck and rust
To lay the ground for unbroken trust
By drinking all my death and hell,
The gnashing teeth I once indwelled,
To bestow His righteousness as well.
The gift, beyond my comprehension,
By His life and death, resurrection and ascension,
Has covered these sins, too loathe to mention,
With white-hot, smoldering purity
Draping me in white robes of amnesty
So He may look in love on me:

A filthy slave now clean and free,
Adopted into His family.


Inkulpable

I’m no guiltier than the moon,
Credited with shining white
And causing howls, or lovers’ swoons,
But possessing no inherent light
Merely collecting forgotten rays strewn
On the lost side of the dark of night.

I’m no guiltier than the mirror clear,
Silver-backed, silver-tongued,
Reflecting all you hate, you fear,
All you adore now lost among
The wrinkles and smears
Depleting the memory of the young
You once wore here.

I’m no guiltier than the pen,
Or the fingers clutching tightly:
A marital dance, twirling again,
Ever swirling sprightly
Through the aged den
Of the unavoidable and the unlikely
Colliding into truth when
I speak in verse; I speak rightly.


Dying of Old Age

We covered it like secret fear,
Pranced and hid in the now and here;
Children giggling in a static maze,
Dancing through the twilight haze.
Under our fear of responsibility and impurity,
We harbored hatred for maturity:
Divided sympathies, diluted resolve.
We struggled to stay uninvolved,
But Father Time kissed our eyes.
Were our truths or our lies
Most bitter? I cannot remember.
In our tantrums we torched the timber
Of the pretty words we shared.
We poisoned ourselves, and dared
Each other to drain the drought
Starving our passion, feeding our doubts,
And aging us against our will.
How I loved you still,
All Roman marble, a chiseled face,
Pale skin carved in immobile grace,
Until you burst into flame again.
We couldn’t both burn the same then,
Or all would be consumed.
With murderous hands, I suppressed the bloom.
I buried our secret to the depths inside,
Pretended I’d grown and watched it die.
I feigned forgetfulness, aversion, apathy.
With intensity you fought for my honesty,
Pleading and shaking, tremors of breath,
But I was committed to the death.
Our common words took opposing inflections.
We ran our maze in opposite directions.
While in a grave unknown, I carried our bones,
The secret that kept me safe, alone.