A few short ones…

You call me a giver but I

feel like a thief.

Mistakes are easy to count but broken

Hearts are immeasurable.

You and I, we are both the same

————————————-

It’s a courtroom

My attorney always wins

So I search tactics for attack

Where my hands remain white

And yours the darkest black

born

This is now a poetic retelling of what others would call an unfortunate seduction

but what I would call an act of God.

So unexpected was the encounter like a sirens wail in my slumber

a spotless night shaken by thunder.

I wore old clothes to dirty with paint but the day ended with a weightless gown of interest.

Pressing on a closed eye I dwell on a passing comment whose scent clung to my clothes

and I smile.

No thing I haven’t heard before but it’s the feathers of his breath that sends a tremble.

I hold his hands and wish for time

alone but wishes blink like glares off glass mosaic temples so instead I waste my time

and fall asleep.

The almost love always pains all ways like never receiving a kiss

that you know would be for goodbye.

I once wore flaring pride upon hatred for the prideless

But so undeniably could I feel that God placed a warrior so guideless

Upon a heart dying to die for things worth living for.

Every fall there are parts of me that pass away deep down inside but so plenty that are suddenly born.

all in all

It pours from the chest

What is seemingly the chest

Falling away from the rest.

The deepest of waters

Unfathomably the deepest.

Defined by nothing where

Everything is everything.

Abrupt

It’s the childish way I reach for you
That I know you
Feel me.
It’s the truth of your lips
That I know I
Feel you.
This passing of time
The ninth, tenth, thirtieth, eighty-seventh
Day.
I fear
To lose you
Not to another but
to the world though
truthfully I fear both.
I see God’s hand of love
For me in my heart for you
That it grows.
I’m dreaming
How far we can run
But I want you
to fly.
I want you
To fly but I’m holding your hands
To my own unpaved land.
The truth so bare
Like your shoulders
My words and my hands

The days of my life

Words are these grains of sand I can rake into shapes of calm breathing.

In, and out, out, out

And somehow there’s nothing left now but sad eyes

That you try to see.

fill hollow

Pouring and laying

I hate to throw this dust over all the beauty

That coaxed me in and out of dreams.

That bound a heart to his, to hers.

But what hurt the most was to see the beauty

Burn away like chaff

Why do you tell me it’s nothing when

it felt like everything

the Rest

Your power and gust
Unfathomable but all too real.
To trust in these firm foundations,
tapping into truth that melt mountains,
sink deep and wide in the darks of unknowns,
feeling the impressions of thin fish wire in the soles.
Trust that He will do the rest.

A winter haiku

I don’t know what I

think will work out, but I know,

for now, how I feel.

the moon and the stars

You always show up at the very right time.

Dream is destiny

 

Weary, sand blasted, worn away
Now I want to rest, I want to dream.
That alarm never quiets the punctured mouth,
green lights glow eerie phantoms in my sleep.
I feel the vibrations in all places I venture now
where all light and winds are burning my eyes to shut,
Creases upon the face I carry deepening to shadows.
Tonight I will blow away with the winds of weakness,
give up on the providence that I myself, deny myself.
Yet no, take it in, a breath and silence.
Twenty-four hours at a time and a time.
it’s this agape love that keeps me going.