Friday, December 25, 2009

Nothing says something

a thousand times when words have been needed, they've been unspoken.

when action was urgent, it was inaction.

where love was starving, it was left hungry another day.

is that to say, nothing says nothing?

no. nothing says something.

nothing says "i am afraid", "i don't want to", "i worry", "i am not the

one...", "someone else would be better...".

inaction, means action.

the action of not acting.

in the silence, in the still, in the winter death of inaction,

choices are made, acted upon, lived out.

silence is not silent forever.

and maybe it screams out more than we know.

it is my prayer for sinners like me,

who say they want change, who say they want to love others

and show Jesus' love alive in their lives

for the whole world to see. it is my prayer,

for you who try and keep failing, who get up to be knocked down.

who gasp for air amid the smog of your own struggles,

trust God. trust Jesus' blood to carry you not only from

condemnation but through tribulation. trust, and live.

trust, and act. for inaction speaks volumes.

i forget that i am on display for the world to see...

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Good morning, sun.

there are some things, like genetics, which i am glad pass on to the next generation.
things like enjoying a cup of coffee in the mornings.
if i did not have fond memories of watching my mom drink coffee every morning, i don't think i would much care for it, myself.
strangely, because it reminds me of being small, i like it.
i love sunny days, because i remember flying kites - those cheap 50 cent ones that'd break after about an hour - and running with my sister.
if my dad didn't so enjoy driving and talking, i should think that i wouldn't enjoy it very much at all - but, because i remember those things, all the times that i spent with people i love... i love those things now.
when you get older, people still ask you the same questions they've been asking you all your life: "what do you want to be when you grow up?" but the twist is that this time, you need a realistic answer. Doctors, lawyers, astronauts, and superhero-people, are all fine and good, but now it's time to be serious.
but, i don't want to forget what it means to dream.
i don't want to lost sight of enjoying the simple beauties of this life God has created; only to chase after a vocation because i am supposed to.
the twist is, i don't want to sit on my butt, either.
i want to live to the glory of The Only God, who made me.
and i want to remember what it is to dream, to run in the sunshine, to enjoy people's company and not just be there, but to BE there - not somewhere else in thought and desire.
hello new year, i am ready to be small.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Routine

it's kind of humorous to me (kind of)
how terrifying routines are to me.
the way i fight outside of reason
to keep from being placed inside of a box of obligation.
only to find that i'd done it to myself long ago.

it's interesting to wake up to the same thoughts
every day. the same worries, the same dreams.
but they never progress, they never change.
i move along all day long, and never go anywhere.
and i blame everything else but me.

it's sobering to see the rapidity of life.
how fast it comes, and how quickly it's slipping away.
how it is actually possibly to sleep away your life.
to live in a dream world of safe routine,
only to wake up a life-time later to the end.

i don't want my recycled moments of safety.
the familiar, easy, tried.
i don't want to make it through to the end
and not have cried, fought, worked for what i love.
i don't want to wake up in the arms of GOD and feel that i hadn't done enough.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

How long my GOD?

if the mountains were crumbling all around,
and the hill sides were melting like wax.
but only that those without were well,
then i know i would be fine.
GOD, smite me.
take me.
may life hurl it's insults upon me.
for i know there is not a pain in this world,
that is not my own fault.
but, O my God, spare; do not allow,
do not allow sin to smother those around me,
and me to only stand by and watch.
i cannot watch, O God.
come quickly, and with You,
bring healing.
come quickly, and shed Your light.
hurry swiftly to these smoldering lands,
and save Your remnant.
only, God, may i live to fight for You,
and may i die also fighting for You.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

What is Enough?

The weight of uncertainty, the pull of productivity.
The things that spin out of the control of your hands.
The things we cannot change. The things we wish we could.
No one wakes up and hopes things to go this way.
Everything's so critical, so busy, you feel lost.
Maybe no one asks you how you're doing.
But maybe you wouldn't tell them anyway.
And it's a release you say you need.
I wish I could protect you, and bring back parts of your life.
To retract things you never should have had do see or feel.
I wish sin didn't wound so deep.
And that deeper wounds weren't used to compensate.
I just want for you to believe the Truth.
To hear the Gospel, as it was always for you.
To see the wounds that took your place.
Only Jesus' pain and suffering bring change, bring peace.
God, we're so broken.
Jesus, we're fractured into a thousand pieces.
Abba, when will the pain stop?
When will the sun rise again?

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Honesty

maybe i'm just cynical, but let's not kid ourselves.
you think you hurt now?
just wait, it can get worse.
you thought that was the worse case scenario?
just wait, you'll see worse.
they "never saw it coming"
that is, until it came.
present things are difficult,
until they are in the past.
this whole life seems to be a giant pyramid
reaching an apex in living against the odds of the
impossible, improbable and insufferable.
and those that are very well near done,
somehow have the ability to smile.
and so it must be, that while this life is on an incline of pain,
suffering, sin and sorrow;
there must be something greater hereafter.
a something that far outweighs,
and even negates the pain of the present.
taking the pain and wiping it away with good.
so let's be honest,
this isn't as good as it gets.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

a-changing

life moves on
in its steady whirlwind,
keeping the past just close enough to remember -
- with echoes of eternity leading ahead.
we use numbers, schedules and fashion to tell time.
HE who sits on the Throne has chosen a different way.
His fingers paint colors resplendent with vivacity.
vitality traces every outline.
we turn a page.
He turns a season.
we grow a year older,
He works miracles which grow a man more than time.
the climax of our seasons is the absence of life.
resurrected by the miracle of Spring.
the return of the sun.
the beginning of all things new.
it's merciful, is it not,
that each year begins with brand new life.
that the old, dead things are left in another time.
it is only memories which are not so merciful.
time is still turning.
slowly, surely, fully -- it comes,
singing, dancing, shouting;
crying, mourning, sighing.
another page is a-turning,
what change do you see?

Monday, August 17, 2009

these are the questions

who are you?
who am i?
i look into the mirror but not long enough to catch a glimpse of who lives behind the eyes. and i figure, if i don't see it, no one else will either. if i keep busy, if i do things, if i'm productive no one but God will see the decline in things that matter more. i remember waiting up all night, frightened -- i didn't pray. it sounded like the rosary. the same words strung together by memory, uttered with insincere lips with a desire of equal out-put for in-put. my vending machine mentality, that if i put something in, some minuscule effort, God owes me. i'm glad He doesn't give equal out-put for what i've "put in".
another year is coming into focus. and more and more i am left wondering who i am. i am not defined by my grades, a degree, a vocation. not by my talents, failures, opportunities or social status. i am only a vapor, but i live like i'm set in stone. that is, there is so little time to truly live, and i spend so much of it being a selfish ass. so the question stands: who am i?

Friday, August 7, 2009

Therapy.

crash. burn. [repeat]
afraid. run. [repeat]
trust. hurt. [repeat]
hope. dashed. [repeat]
despair. pain. [repeat]

i don't want to repeat.
to run this cycle.
breaking away has no clear route.
freedom has no boundaries to start from.
must leave behind, push away all this.
start from the end.
push towards the beginning.
i'm tired of hoping in things that dissappoint.
tired of seeing glimpses of Jerusalem,
dashed when the fog clears.
weary of seeing what i have strained so long to see,
only to find i have made myself believe them to be.
i want to run.
i want to cry.
i want to hide-away and never come out.
i want to run to You.
i want You to hide me.
please make sense of all this broken-ness.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

i can't think anymore.
i try, it doesn't work.
things come, they come to pass.
morning changes to day, to afternoon, to night.
then morning again.
there's no break from reality.
there's no breaking from me.
how can i leave, with things as they are?
i cannot go, cannot go far from here.
time makes things harder.
i forget what i wanted.
because i cannot see it anymore.
i dream in black and white.
if i dream at all.
i must rely on memories of dreams.
and hold onto pictures i've seen in the sky.
to songs i cannot quite remember.
and faces that grow more blurred with time.
i swim in an ocean of memories.
remember the awe...

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

star gazing

i sit beneath the sky.

under wind, under light, under gravity.

i spy light out of the darkness.

over seas, over city, over space.

i trace a pattern in the sky.

like my grandmother. like my neighbor. like a stranger.

i whisper into the emptyness.

cricekts whisper. breeze answers. the orchestra of night.

i'm smaller than all, beneath this gaze.

smaller than a child. smaller than an ant. smaller than all.

i'm looking for You.

tracing. whispering. sitting. looking.

if You can whisper, please whisper.

if You can trace, please trace a message.

if You can sit with me, please sit.

if You look and see me amidst this world.

please show me.

please show. please teach. please open my eyes.

Monday, June 22, 2009

How should we then live?

In light.

Of God's Grace.

Grace which is so out of line.

With everything we're taught.

How should we.

Who have been forgiven much.

Then, live?

Not living to attain.

What we're already given.

Not living to pay back.

What's already ours.

But, living.

Living knowing we're only alive.

Because Jesus died.

And God loves immensely.

So.

How?

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Yeah.

the way 'round the world is a lot closer,
not like the things that get under your skin.
a whole lot of open space
lying flat on the ground, without a fear.
there are different people, too
there's a world outside your window.
i guess i just got too caught up
playing shadow puppets on the wall,
too busy looking at reflections--
never seeing the real thing.
who knew rain puddles could sing?
or that wheat fields dance wildly, freely.
that color could be so intense,
so full and rich that it could captivate.
here, the same sun. same moon.
different world.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Rehab

no matter how much space he doesn't occupy,
it makes no sense. everytime a corner turns
in the house, his voice should come from the
other room. but it doesn't. get used to it.
it just doesn't.
pictures, viewings, friends, family, flowers.
so many flowers, so many friends.
i trailed the casket in hopes of it sinking in.
to know that this is reality, this is now normal.
and it doesn't help. it didn't.
when the family is all talking, it feels wrong,
that he's not there. it doesn't add up.
so strange how one person can fill so much space,
and leave such big holes. such big holes.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Sail and Gails

amid the rustle of the frost-burned grass,
underside the rubber soles of polished shoes-
in a place where few smiles survive,

she will wear the black dress, and she will
smile, she will sing. Proclaim to the sleepy
knoll, Jesus has taken away the sting.

the black sails that trail behind,
the box of all that remains,
walk slowly, traipsing on graves,
hover, whisper, tear drop across the place.

But she will smile.
In that long, black dress.
She will laugh, and smile --
She will sing.
"You can't hold him, you can't hold me"...
"Death, where is your sting?"

Thursday, February 19, 2009

long goodbyes

the trouble with knowing someone is the underlying fear,
of knowing you will have to say goodbye someday.
the trouble with loving someone is that one day they will be gone,
and there will only be the memory of the who and why.
and the problem of saying goodbye is that not matter how many times,
you tell your head it's not forever you cannot imagine anything else.

the trouble of suffering,
is that you cannot stop it.
the crux of pain,
is that no words, no thoughts can alleviate.

long goodbyes...
if you make it through today,
into tonight.
not sure if it's goodbye,
not sure until the last.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

which way from here

i should be reading,
the narrative of the life of FD.
i'd rather that i was singing,
and strumming, and moving to the beat.
the wind's blowing outside,
so loud and whistling through the cracks.
the sun is out and bright today,
shedding light in the winter,
waking the world up again.

and it's calm.
stillness, smoothness sun-light day.

who'd have thought?
i never wanted more than to be left alone.
the only one in the family who wanted for no company,
but a dog and a cabin in the mountains for home.
no wanderlust ever grew no desire to move.
but the wind picked up, lifted up,
and blew me, flew me, moved me around the globe.
now i'm not so sure i ever landed.
now i'm not so sure where home is.

and it's calm.
for a moment; stillness, smoothness sun-light day.

and the wind's blowing again,
where does it go from here?

Friday, February 6, 2009

Starting with nothing, ending with everything

There's a "new math" a-brewing, as Andree Seu would quip.
A math which does not measure in earthly standards.
Love which does not devour and consume,
For only the Pure Love of God can both
devour and consume us in His love,
And, all the while, make us more ourselves,
More Alive than we ever were.
That idea, i confess, is not my own,
C.S.Lewis had it long before i was a
Twinkle in my father's eye.
But it still stands.
Love, the healing kind...
This new math, what does that mean?
Does it mean i give because i get?
No.
It means in losing, i will win.
In forfeiting every love and idol claim of my heart,
There will be wholeness.
St. Francis of Assisi had a pretty good
Idea of what this new math looked like:
"May I not seek to be consoled, but to console--
not so much to be loved, as to love--
not to be understood, but to understand..."
You see, you start with nothing,
But you end with everything.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

From the Ground Up

the old walls which withstood a thousand winters,
could not stand to wheather another year.
those same old thorns which pained the sides,
just couldn't hide inside anymore.
in a place where nothing could grow,
where brick and mortar lie like iron on the leaves;
as the walls which withstood a thousand tear drops,
that never could drop -- stood. it simply stood.

and with the rain it brought cold,
the night swells darkness around that multiplies.
but the wall just stood to stand in the way,
never protecting never keeping a promise it laid.
a thousand more winters and it would be,
forever the same -- always the same.
where blackness consumes and concrete seeps,
below flesh, below viens into a heart which lost all feeling.

and, Oh! how You tear me.
tear me down, brick by brick,
every inch of mortar.
how You tear me,
from the ground up.
You shake my foundation,
open my eyes, and --
i am undone. i am raw.
i cannot hide.
Oh! how You tear me...
from the ground up.

Friday, January 23, 2009

[insert title here]

i wanted to sit down and write a poem,
about love, and hope and beauty.
so that's what i set my mind to.
but every word that came out,
it seems, was only full of bite and pain.
no rhymes, no meter, could bend to.
i thought about green mountains,
blue rivers that run accross deserts.
about the time i stuck french-fries up my nose.
remembered orphan's hugs and smiles.
still, no poem, no good, came out.
i tried to remember better days;
when i didn't worry so much about myself.
to a time when i didn't bother,
or stoop, to fit some sort of picture,
that society had made.
and i almost tricked myself to believe,
that too -- that i was once 'okay'.
until i ran headlong into a wall.
the wall of my own density,
the weight defying gravity,
filled with selfish intensity,
marked by human depravity.
and i didn't want to write any more,
not one more stupid poem.
about how good things'd gone today,
or about ways i'd made a change and difference.
i wanted to crawl under a rock,
to hide like a little kid.
but then i realized, that this-
predicament i find myself in,
this -- means that i already did.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

What of this makes us who we are?

"Some times it's hard to tell what to keep and what to kill, what of this makes us who we are?" - Sarah Groves

Some times it's a heck of a lot easier to write poetry than to write honestly without artistic shroud to cover up those things which are inexplicably hidden from the sight of others by careful rhyme and word choice. And some times, it's just easier to say nothing at all. After all, silence is golden, right? Not really.
I've done my fair share of saying nothing. Either saying nothing, quite literally, or saying nothing even when I speak. Making nothing more than a steady stream of noise to fill a void.

But what do I keep, if you will, of the past? What is good, what is right, what should I hang on to? And what needs to die?

I'm just wondering. What of this makes me who I am?