The Weeping Prophet Said It Well

Near God…Far God, the weeping prophet said it well

At Times we can stand immersed

While others we stand aloof

My stance, not yours

As I stand amazed at the sight of the moon so full

I wonder when my heart can feel that swell

The waves off shore crash

Where does the tide lie tonight?

Presence forever and always surrounding

Though tangible an adjective I must seek

When waters recede-yet I will trust

This ocean’s breadth wide, its depth overwhelming

My hair loose-in shambles as it falls about my shoulders

The evening breeze tossing it to and fro

Here I stand exposed

No fake and fancy adornment you won’t see through

I close my eyes as I will the tears to stay at bay

My desire for my King overcomes like a tidal wave

On my knees the sand digs deep in its mocking way

The drops on my cheeks a testament

If I could but be drift wood

Though seemingly displaced-your strong waves transform

Humility embraced-it rocks in your arms

Won’t you determine my destination too?

A shift in the winds as I open my eyes

The tide is coming, watch the waters rise! To my feet I stand-

All reservations lay beneath where my knees once did bend

Your melody of the deep harmonizes with my disappointed lament

Stars piercing the oil black sky; light my way

Drawn ever onward to the mysteries that ahead lay

Arms spread wide, heart laid bare

Hope manifested in the answer to a prayer

You are here.

Had to be my choice, not yours

While at times I stand aloof

I’ve decided to be immersed in submission

No matter what my feelings have said-

All the same, I stand on the shoreline of your presence.

Near God…Far God, the weeping prophet said it well.

+ Jeremiah 23:23-2 “Am I only a God nearby,” declares the Lord, “and not a God far away? Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them?” Declares the Lord. “Do I not fill heaven and earth?”

Class Dismissed

Every heart beat. Both pain and honesty. Honestly I think mouths should be more active with the words on our soul. After all how do we really know? If only what we sowed left a trail.

            Track back or move forward? The call isn’t always clear, the choice not always ours. The risk is for the taking. But is that a disaster in the making? The building of a person happens slowly over time. Though taking out the battery doesn’t actually stop time. Neither does writing silly rhymes.

            Though those in the past have found it cathartic. I’d without it, this simple pass time, have cardiac arrest. What would it look like to set my heart on a shelf? Would anyone notice its absence? Would I miss the irregular sound of its skipping as I try to understand?

            I guess you can’t live without more than one vital organ at a time—otherwise I would remove my mind. Is that kind? I’m a creature of a different kind. Alien—not quite—crazy maybe so. As long as “others think I’m crazy , but I have found a joy that will last.”

            Last time I took a journey akin to this—well that ended badly. Lesson learned. Class dismissed.

Shared Stories

Sharing life with others

Smiles, tears, laughter

Emotions aren’t the rule

But they can guide

They can guide you into a heart

Open wide to receive

Arms enfolding tightly

Genuine friendship with no expiration

The mediums; numerous and true

Whether face to face, written or lyric

God can use all to knit

One life experience to another

Another’s surrender can be the sign

We sometimes have to fight

To hold to a gift we’ve been given

Do we have to pick and choose?

Day dreamers pick out scenes

We can decide to cut them out

Or we can take hold of the now

Isn’t every soul’s bond worth it?

So I’ll help you see your worth

Cause I count you as part of mine

Your life; I want to see the story

My own is without clarity if not share with others

Like children sharing crayons

If we live out our stories

Will you help me bring color

And stay in the lines?

Too Many Sad Words

Too Many Sad Words

“Too many sad words make a sad, sad song…” I find only the rhythmic hiss and hum of the dryer are here to stir. It must be okay to write—I think it must be okay to just think. Where do my thoughts go? A flicker of the candles draws me. The shadows it casts—the lead in the pencil that outlines my mind, labyrinth of life that only has room for beings of a certain kind. A wrong turn down a dark path could be cause for a delay. But no one is really expecting me soon anywhere, anyways.

            Any path of a choosing all my own, could only lead to weakened strength, my life is not my own. The strokes of a faint shadow as it fills the void is a chord of a song that all must play-but me myself, I want to wait for another day.

            Cause as the day numbers, the letters they spell out the things I have either not seen or known all too well. I wonder if the reader can follow along cause the author just got lost in the lyric of another song. The notes they bounce, the hums they virbrate. The sounds they fall right off the hungry conveyer belt’s plate.

            If we would all just be upfront, this bloodthirsty kill would be down for the count. But if the flicker of this flame be told-years from now what a life it did behold. A camera’s flash can only catch so much, cause the butterflies inside are crying aloud. They scratch and claw like a lost prey, only yearning for the safety away from me.

            But the cage in which they live, was never meant to berate, they can leave as they please I’ve always been polite. Yet when I beg and scream for them to go, I’m met with only a sour note of spilled milk and overdone eggs. The color askew the taste akimbo, who would ever come close? None of which I know.

            Breathing slows and hand follows suite-my eye lids they cry to be allowed enroute. The thoughts aswirl collide with the butterflies, berated of thoughts, lead on between the lines. Back to sleep mayhaps they go. I’ll respect their wishes. Little did they know. Little did they know. 

As the Door Swings

As The Door Swings

As the doors wings I stand aside-

How hard to tell whether it goes-

Open ?

Close?

I try to reposition-to see around the corner.

This of course is not the design.

All I see is curiosity’s face peering back.

My face.

Should I walk forward or just let it go?

Should I walk away-

No, that’s not in store for me today.

The hinges creak with unanswered questions.

Questions.

The road map for faith-one stop slowly taken.

A sort of escape.

As the door swings I sit and ponder,

All this second guessing could be waiting time—

Or all this thoughtfulness could be defining the line.

Lines—boundaries—timing—sighing.

He sees it all.

I do not stand alone at this door, as it swings.

My hand tightly grips His-He is walking along with me.

But we’re not walking—just waiting.

He’s been here before—he’s gone ahead.

He planned it all out—I believe what he’s said.

So I watch the door swinging—allowing him to lead.

The rhythmic sound of doors sway, draws me into thought.

For now here I will stay.

Open?

Close?

I don’t know—but what I do is that I don’t have to.

I close my eyes to slow the time.

The hand I hold- I feel a tug.

I take a step forward.

Open or close?

He knows.

SEEK

                                          Seek.

Through ignoring may the fire

                                           Ignite

Drawing close the dew on the green pasture falls on

                                          My face,

Focusing in I feel a refreshing breath fill

                                          My lungs,

A pause in the present allows a pondering of

                                           The past, 

The act of letting go of my unknown

                                           Future and,

Placing it in Your capable control and not in

                                          My hands.

Amidst the pursuit he who has ears let him

                                           Hear.

                                           I listen. I wait.

My Still Born Advice

*written quite some time ago when I was walking through some things.

Foot steps come faster now
I don't bother to look
They will pass me-
I told them to run.
I stand.
            STILL
They trip as they run
At least they're moving-I think.
Why do I stare
My mind wanders
Oh-I shouldn't be here.
I ponder.
           STILL
Hypocrite-yes. Judging? Sure.
But cant I live by my words?
Run to God I say.
He will forgive-start anew
Trade lethargy for his legacy
His arms are open
I cry.
           STILL
True, I fall. Yes, I mess up.
Same as you-
Shouldn't I then turn to God-
Like I told you to?
In Him there is freedom
Why do we have to struggle?
           STILL

Caffeine like nicotine

Door Swings

Caffeine like nicotine

Aroma rich

Hiss and murmur of machine

My favorite tune

Warm smile-nice greetings

Hands grip purchase

Contentment from taste buds 

To the ear buds that sing

Seat carefully chosen

I survey the humanity

Imagine their story

Wonder what they view as mine?

Harmony and authenticity-

Words so true from another-they overwhelm

To my pen I succumb

Little word play here

Big gulp of espresso there

Slow savor the taste 

Quick detail my thoughts

Tap of the foot

Distant stare to process

Flip the page to engage

Check the clock

Different faces now sit around

Conversations at every table

Pack up

Clank of the mugs

Door swings

Deep breathe of clean air

Steps keep the time

Song stuck on repeat in mind

Like an addiction

No surgeon general warning here

Just a siren's song calling to sip

Good evening-till next time.

Quiet You By His Love

Rabid butterflies fight in my stomach

I breathe slowly—willing them to calm

Why must flesh and Spirit compete?

“New season!” Many say

“New Questions” I respond.

Does this mean my faith is weak?

With a furrowed brow at eye

Quiet sigh on my lips

Heart twists ever so slightly

Skepticism a curse I stubbornly embrace

Direction I stumble after

Inaction I battle silently

If I were to scream at the top of my lungs—

The noise would only get lost in the clamor of opinions

The pain in my head a result of an unhealthy diet of sarcasm

Head bowed low

Soul laid bare

I focus to hear the Lion’s roar

Uncertainties eclipsed by promises

She pauses and smiles at the thought

“He will quiet you by His Love”

The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing. - Zephaniah 3:17