My sadness gets up at 2:00 am
Then again at 4:00
And 5:30
And 6:45
Then 7:00am

After the snooze alarm goes off
My sadness wears concealer and mascara to make it
feel awake
and pretty

My sadness hides behind a joke, a smile, a laugh
My sadness is scared of my happiness, who
Stops by once in a while
but just for a quick hello

My sadness doesn’t show through the way
I pull myself together in the morning like nothing is wrong
Or when people ask “how are you?” And replies “I’m good!”
People don’t see my sadness in the stories I tell,
the schoolwork I do, the advice I give them for their problems

My sadness doesn’t show up like other’s sadness
It doesn’t hold its head down in the hallway,
or sleep in until 12, it doesn’t go days without eating,
and it doesn’t try to keep happiness in a locked door

No.

My sadness only shows through the poetry I write
The music behind my earbuds
The short stream of tears when the doors are
closed and the windows are open hoping that just one
small bit of happiness will come inside and stay for longer
than a joke, a laugh, a smile.

My sadness stays in the shower longer than usual,
gets angry a little too easily, and cries a little too much
when watching The Notebook.
It doesn’t look like sadness or walk like sadness or talk like sadness
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t sadness.

No.

You can’t see my sadness.
It doesn’t show like a person with a
broken leg and crutches
You don’t take one look at it and know that
It is crippled and broken down

No.

My sadness is like cancer
You don’t know it’s there until you strip me down
peel back the layers of my skin
to see that I’ve been breathing an air like smoke
that’s caused a growth in my lungs and heart so
that each breath I take, each drop of blood that flows
through my veins feels like a weight on my chest that
can only be lifted with you laying beside me and holding
me until I feel as light as a feather souring through the wind
after finally break free of its bird. Its burd-en.
The thing that’s been holding it down, keeping it from doing
the impossible. But, possibly you can’t lift that weight.
possibly it’s only me that can lift that weight.

Possibly it’s been me the whole time.
Possibly I am the one that kicks happiness out the door
When it stops by because I don’t see happiness
Without you here
But how dare I place the image of happiness
Only in your presence when happiness can fall
In from any joke, or laugh, or smile
And happiness can stay past the sunset
Because you can still see happiness when all you feel
Is the darkness
Happiness can come in when the door
Is bolted shut because happiness doesn’t
Ask if it can come over
Happiness waltzes right in, unannounced, but
Always welcome.
So the next time my sadness is sitting at the table
And we are having a cup of coffee,
And happiness runs through the door
I will show sadness the exit
And then turn to happiness and say “it is great to
See you, please stick around for a while.”
And later when it gets up to leave
I will grab it by the arm and hold
onto it tighter than you ever held me.

I remember when we lived in Paradise
I remember dwelling with God
I remember walking with the Father
I remember talking with the Son
I remember conversing with the Spirit

I remember the beauty that God had made
And I remember the fruit that was for us
I remember the animals that I named
And I remember the perfection there was
I remember having a relationship with God

I remember that day
And we left the garden
I remember being against God
And ourselves, and our children
I remember the sin I fell into

I remember telling my wife we had to go
And I remember leaving
I remember the tears, the pain, the regret
And I remember the blood
I remember this curse I brought

I remember my son
And how he killed his brother
I remember my son
And I remember his sons
I remember how they perverted God

I remember how they were pagan and wicked
And the flood, when they were destroyed
I remember my son, Noah
And I remember his righteousness
I remember the iniquity of even Noah, the righteous

I remember the sins of Noah's sons
And the pagan worship they began
I remember my son, Abraham
And his son Isaac
I remember the sacrifice

I remember Isaac's sons Israel and Judah
And the iniquity of their nations
I remember Egypt, and their god
And the slavery of my sons in the land
I remember the sins of my sons

I remember my sons in the desert
And the 40 years of sorrow
I remember them entering Canaan
And the beauty of the land promised
I remember the promises of God

I remember the promised King
And the seed of the king to come
I remember Judah and Israel
And warring among themselves
I remember the iniquity of my sons

I remember the sins of my sons
And their people scattered
I remember the pain and sorrow
And the exile they were given
I remember the loss of a people

I remember my final Son
And His gift given to us
I remember His death
And how He paid my debt
I remember the guilt

I remember the Father
And his assurance to me
I remember the Fall
And I remember the Spring
I remember it all

I remember that all deaths are mine to bear
And I was the founder
I remember the sin that comes with my name
And better yet, the grace that comes with His
I remember the name of Jesus

My identity is
both water
and oil


                    It does not stick


Sometimes if i pour it in a bottle and shake really well,
for a few moments
I pretend that the SMALLER i get
oli bubbles to be,
the more blended it looks

I shake and I shake
But separation always comes back

Days have melted into nights
Nights into nothingness
Nothingness into unlimited infinities
Infinities shift to possibilities
Possibilities give birth to chances I never seem to take
Chances transform to regrets
Regrets end up with nosebleeds.
What I'm trying to say is that
I wonder a lot
And it appears that it has often led me off of the road
I found beauty but I also found a place where Color goes to die.