Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Long Buried

You were the first to graft poetry under my skin

And I’ve separated eight years from myself

I cut my teeth on you and you taught me the proper way to mourn

And now I see you at the end of the aisle

Her hand clasped in yours and your perfect smile

Shining like you really mean it

And what I feel is not the old feelings I once had

It’s the knowledge that they are gone.

For this I am grateful, but perhaps a little more empty

Than yesterday

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

In Mystic Sweet

Today I heard the old man’s voice

He’s been dead for twenty-five years

Slain under prayerful parents’ hands

The light of Christ found my heart

While it was still developing space

Long before the world began

My name was written in the book

And I was birthed beneath His shadow

Beneath His spotlessness, His blood

And He drew sword and killed the old man

Killed the death that would destroy me

But still the vestigial murmurings

Deep within me, I still fight

Now I have the living spirit, now I’m able

I no longer bear the chains

But while this fallen time and fallen world

Remain, I’m fighting

And today I heard his voice

He whispered one lie

“Did God really say” he said

And I failed to reach for promises

And I failed to sing the truth out

And I failed to glorify Him

And I failed…in general

So, now I take this bread, this wine

Reminding you of reminding me

Accept His perfection, again.

Accept His punishment, again.

Forgive my failure to fight, again.

This is all I have, for now

Until the dead and dying old man

Finally taken from my shoulders

Then I’ll see with brighter colors

And I’ll feast with you that day.

Monday, March 12, 2012

The Daffodils

Look there is one fallen victim

Winter feared her early rising

Feared being mocked by yellow silence

This soldier has bent forward

Petals now to pavement under

Wind and rain’s relentless driving

She sees nothing, not her glory

Not her yellow, not the seasons

Her back beaten she’s forgotten

Why she’s here to light the darkness

Still her petals face the sidewalk

Still she kisses black and grey

Till the yellow turns with friction

Back to brown to fade away.

I fear she’ll never look up

Never assert her delicacy

These sentinels of spring

Grown to give us hope in darkness

This one degraded flower

Cannot stop the resurrection

And around the dead of winter

Rings a colorful return

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

I Pass You The Ball

We, equally transparent

Handing fragmented thoughts

Back and forth over my bags

We, equally awkward

I swallowing doubts and demons

You, suppressing comparisons

We, equally tongue-tied

By too many miles and

Too many unspoken words

I pass you the ball