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Before

27 Aug

Remember when
We’d get lost in a crowd
Bump shoulders with a stranger
Emmersed in the swelling music
A sound bigger than all of us

Remember when
We’d smile at the elderly woman
In the grocery store
Browsing the same aisle
And she would smile back
And lean her wrinkled face towards
Our sticky toddler
To say hello
And remind us how fast childhood goes

Remember when
We’d shake hands
Look each other in the eye
Speak our minds
With kindness
Believe in the good of our neighbors
Our country

Believe
We are well

When we’d
Sit in coffee shops
Inhaling the scent of being awake
Eavesdropping on conversations
From the tables next to ours
Reading faces
Watching life happen
Outside the window

Remember when
We’d dream of traveling
The world
Of every gorgeous &
Dangerous possibility
Open before us

Remember
Before
They told us
To fear

And we forgot
To live

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Pentecost

31 May

We watch our cities burn
And wonder
How we can stop
The hate that festers
Because of hue
The judgement that finds
What is different
In another human
And fears it
We try to educate
To eradicate the evil
That grows like cancer
In our bones
But
Our 13-Step programs fail
Our willpower won’t work
Our attempt at recompense
are empty
Our efforts always fall short
As the gap widens further
More blame
More destruction
More lives ruined
But
In a room
They sat
Today and over 2,000 years ago
Every shade of melanin gathered

Then came a fire
But not the burning buildings type

A living kind
The same light, warmth, ferocity
That spoke through a bush
To free His children from slavery
That led them through miles of wilderness
That jealously consumed a soaked altar
That came upon them That Day (and today)
ALL languages
Backgrounds
Skin
Culture
Division
Were not
And all at once
Languages were understood
Barriers broken
Generations of wounds mended
The gospel being proclaimed
By the same man
Who walked with Jesus
And denied Him
At the crux of The Story
All at once
EVERY tongue, tribe, and nation
Knew who was King
Knew we are all one
Knew Who will heal this land
Starting in OUR hearts

Come, let us return to Him
To that room
Let the Fire consume us
Be healed

*Acts 2*
*Photo by Matheus Bertelli from StockSnap*

Frozen Ground

22 Mar

Why do we toil so hard to till frozen ground instead of just waiting for the sun?

Is this just the lot of all men? To work until their hands bleed and their minds melt of boredom?

To paddle against a tide and go nowhere?

Where are the explorers and inventors, the revolutionaries pushing boundaries of innovation and creativity?

Let them take their rightful place in the sun, pushing aside the corrupt politicians and peddlers of empty dreams.

Give them a voice. The future of humanity rests in them.

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Dumbing It Up

26 Feb

I don’t know much
But I am sure
In my tired bones
You are the good
in everything

And maybe I can be
Ignorant
and ill-informed
and non-educated
and slow

But the place of Assurance
doesn’t reside in my brain

and intellect
won’t save me from myself

Maybe we’re all
choking on so much knowledge
drowning in information

But this is air:

I believe I am Loved
and that’s enough

Let Hope Be Born

9 Feb

This place is too evil

or so they say

Don’t bring a child into this world

They will only suffer

Society will crumble

The earth will decay

Your grandchildren will watch it burn

(If they are even born)

It’s selfish to raise children

In the midst of the apocalypse

Or so they say

Better not add to the overpopulation

Better not risk a bad seed

A bad apple

Another ignorant human

Better not risk disease

Pain

Disappointment

Better to avoid life all together

………….Or

You could wake up

To a new day

Grow beauty in your womb

Let her come out bloody and screaming

Speak life until your lips hurt

Walk justly

Seek mercy

Fight for love

Choose to hear the Redemption Song

In the middle of the caucophonos war

Tell them

NO!

What’s selfish is to give up

When all the potential for change and restoration

Lies in a brand new human

Emerging from the womb

Let hope be born

Raise your children to be brave

To love unconditionally

To see beyond the veil

To lift the curtain

Live beyond the shriveling systems

Raise your children

To see the good in everything

To stand up to the bullies

To plant flowers

Speak poetry

Love life

To not be afraid to travel the dying world

To know what they think

And who they are

Raise your babies to make the world better

Whisper

Even through the darkest, most hopeless nights….

“You are the light

You are the future

You are the very breath of God.”

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New Poetry Book Available

1 Dec

In 2009 I self-published a collection of poems I wrote while traveling through China and Central America the previous year. My hope was to raise money in order to move to Asia. Plans changed, as they do, but I was happy just for the accomplishment of getting my words out into the world. Years went by and I toyed with the idea of doing another book. Procrastination got the best of me, as always. After all, it is so much easier just to press “publish” on wordpress. Finally, after many life changes, moves, marriage, a baby and another on the way, I published “What the Water Does for My Words.”

It’s interesting to see how my style and voice have developed over the years. Also, how I really still have no idea what I am doing. I am not a poetry expert. Sometimes when I read other poems I think, “my stuff sounds nothing like this.” I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but it’s just me. I’ve found over the years, it’s the one medium I can be completely free. Despite what experts may say, there are no rules. I like that I can feel the freedom to play with words and not worry about being relevant or cheesy. Either it speaks to you or it doesn’t.

I think poetry is one of the most overrated and underrated forms of writing. I say this because it has a bad reputation in modern society of being sappy or cheesy. Like greeting cards or Christian rap. But throughout history it was the language or lovers and warriors alike, an artistic form that surpassed logic and science and went straight for the heart.

I think that’s why I can find my home there.

I have a hard time categorizing poems, I guess that’s the whole organizational thing that doesn’t really come naturally for me. But I attempted in this book to group them into three overlying themes that came out as I read through them:

Earth.

Wind.

Water. 

Many of these poems are about finding peace and contentment in nature. Others explore my frustrations with modern society and myself. Others are more about my struggles with Christianity and my journey from religion into grace.

If you’ve followed my writing at all over the years, I think you will like it. 🙂

Thanks for reading, friends.

book

 

Click here to order the paperback on Amazon.

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Doors

1 Nov

they say just walk right through when it’s open

but sometimes the noise is too loud to find your footing

I still dream of that perfect place where the windows are always open

and the outside and inside are one so there are no dark corners

walls are safe and secure and they keep us yearning

even when we want to tear them down

we just keep building them

It’s not a matter of good or evil, it’s what you do within them

they say that the each of us in a house
and what the rooms look like inside represent a soul
but some of us are tents
wandering from country to country
refugees of our own making
never finding home

they say just keep waiting for a door to open
but some of us are builders, bolting locks
others are fighters, kicking them down
in order to let the sunlight in

 

 

doors

 

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The Poetry Marathon

13 Aug

Today I participated in The Poetry Marathon. Basically, you sign up and commit to writing a poem every hour for 12 hours (the half marathon) or 24 hours for the full marathon. I decided to do the half marathon because I need my beauty sleep.

I signed up last minute in hopes to kick myself out of the writer’s block I’ve been stuck in. I usually don’t take these things online too seriously, and I proved myself right when I woke up late this morning after staying up late with friends and said “screw it.” It was past the start time and I was feeling too tired and uninspired.

But I really had no plans for the day, so I had breakfast and sat down to write a line or 2. I am glad I did. I am not in love with any of the poems, but it was a great creative exercise. I may even suck it up and do the full 24 hours next year.

So here you go: 12 poems in 12 hours.

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8 am

The sky is bleeding today
It’s a comfort to say the least
Less I run out of words to say

The idea that I can change the world
Feels old and retired
Feeble and expired

Coddled up next to dreams
Barely holding on by life support
Beside kin argues whether to pull the plug
And I am forced to choose

Do I stay or do I know?
Do I leave it all behind in my mind?
Refuse and waste
Allowing practicality to govern

 

9 am

Before I go down to the river
Lend me your hand
So I can understand how
The way your veins run with blood
And how the water runs over rocks
Are the same

 

10 AM

Lovely.

That’s what you said
As you whispered thoughts that have never come up for air
Drowning in your sentences
New and alive
Words melting icicles
Dripping wet in the sun

Good morning.

That’s what I said
And the newness of the day wrapped around us
A blanket covering our nakedness

 

11 am

Billowing questions of worth
Transcend time and matter
As we walk against the wind
Barely holding ourselves up
How can we get anywhere
When questions like this prevail?
How can we make a dent in the ground
To plant anything worth harvesting?
How can we plan for the future
When we don’t know our own names?
How can we bare children
When all is left barren?
When the storm shouts
Deafening us to any other voices
“You don’t deserve this.”

 

12 pm

Little dove
Don’t worry about your destination
Your wings are strong enough
Despite what you’ve been told
You carry the weight of the universe
In your feathers
Yet the upward motion comes
As easy as the rising sun

Little dove
All will be well
Despite what the news projects
You carry the potential for peace
In your beating heart

Don’t let the world bring you down
You belong in the clouds

 

1 PM

Lately I feel it all
Rushing into me
A house fire blazing
From room to room
Leaving only charred foundations
Caked with soot
And I am left standing
Shivering in the ashes
Grateful for the in and out
Of my lungs
Grieving over what’s lost
With the tiniest certainty
One day I’ll rebuild

 

2 PM

I live for the imagery of travel
The journey and the road
That finds us closer to the sun
Away from the cold, dark forest

I live for the endless roads
Stretched out across vast lands
Of my imagination
Winding mountain passages
Going straight to the heart

Come with me as we drive
Windows down
Air freely moving
Into the soul of these words

 

3 PM

Walk with me
And tell me amazing things
Of how you conquered the world
Inside your own head
Slaying those dark thoughts
With glimpses of light
Beams of grace
Illuminating ghettos
Show me your scars
While telling war stories
Of how you barely lived
To see today
Just so you could walk with me

 

4 PM

I feel a relief sweeping through me
Like knowing summer’s almost over
And soon I’ll be able to be outside
Breathing in air that doesn’t suffocate
Like soon I’ll have a place to rest my head
Away from the chaos I create

 

5 PM

I used to imagine the afterlife
A sparkling city with a dark sky
Literal golden mansions
Where flawless people picked fruit from backyard orchards
And bathed in clear waters
Walking on diamond covered river

Now when I do think of heaven
My mind is blank– there’s no scenery
I only picture the immense feelings
Of loving purely– and being loved
Multiplied by infinity

 

6 PM

I close my eyes and drift to a place
Where I am always happy and at peace
Where I am organized and productive
Where my life is shining and clean
Where my book is a best seller
And I travel the world with my babies
Where every word I say matters
Then I stop
Rewind a bit
Backtrack from an imaginary future
To the past
Where I was a scared little girl
With nothing but dreams
Afraid to speak
And that I’d never be enough
And I know
We’ve come a long way, baby
This is only Part 1
The rest of my story will have plenty of twists

7 PM

I am tired but I am here
I just want to be more than here
I want to be present
Fully alive
Available
Myself
I want to be captured by beauty
And be ok in my own skin
To stop overthinking
And really live
Maybe one day I’ll write about more
But for right now
Every line in my poem
Leads me back to this:
Happiness comes when I am fully awake

 

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My Wilderness

21 Jun

we say wilderness like it’s a dirty word

as if purity is something to fear

untouched by society and progress

wild, yes, but necessary

complicated, yes, but simple

a dangerous beauty to embrace

and yet we are terrified by:

cold, heat, hunger, weakness, work

the very things that make us

fantastically alive

yet we want it easy

even when it’s poison

we don’t want to admit

our comfort is killing us

but it’s so convenient

we say, eyes glazed over

unsure of where anything originated

even ourselves

I’ll tell you:

we came out of a garden

ripe like a vegetable

covered in earth

and every emotion

ready for sustenance

drinking, eating, toiling, laughing

mourning our losses

getting up with the sun

to start all over again

but for many of us

this is only stories

images, visions, words

a longing and a loathing

fantasies of self-reliance

returning to our roots

only to find they’ve been pulled out

a herb garden on a windowsill

surrounded by plastic and steel

miles from where we came from

unsure of what it means to live anywhere

we say wilderness like it’s a pretty word

hip and nostalgic

forgetting animal instinct

the harsh reality of nature

the bloody struggle of survival

but leave me here awhile

and I’ll stay alive

by grace and my own hands

I’ll make something grow

a wild flower

inside my own wilderness

2DAFOLO5B7

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Translating the Wind

11 Jun

somewhere between where I was and where I am going,

I reside

abandoning all other options

careless to the chaos of choice

the noise ceases and I am still

Oh restless heart, make peace with yourself

a decade ago I wandered from city to small town

overwhelmed by the meaning

in every place, person, and moment

every noun was a sign

nothing my senses experienced was an accident

I wrote like it was the only way I could see where I was going

and even though it tortured me

I knew I could exist in the moment

I knew Purpose

like sun and rain and soil

and it didn’t matter

that I only had if half-right

that I was cowering to fear

rowing against the waves

to an island I could never land on

Oh restless heart, stop for a moment and rest

at last the illusion broke

I screamed in a hotel room in China

I hated what my beliefs had made me

while loving grace for the lies it exposed

I fell apart and came together

I stood on a bridge far above snow covered streets

and knew impossible was nothing

a remaking of self

a transition from winter to spring

I guess I am not done yet

uprooting, planting, blooming

the layers that ultimately become my being

and I’ll keep going

wondering, wandering and questioning

even if I stay still

the Wind speaks and I can finally translate:

Oh restless heart, this is your home

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