Loves reinvention
winter spring summer and fall
natures totality

you were the spark
a candle lit
from both ends
beautiful yet
so fragile
there was a part
of me that wanted to
reach out to you,
body ablaze
but I took my hand
back and let you
burn alive.

Are we 1,75m tall?
No, but we can do 10 pushups.

Do we get good grades?
No, but we try our best to learn.

Are spear ribs still our favourite food?
No, but we do eat.

Do we still play basketball?
No, but we do still swim.

Are we happy?
No, but we haven’t given up.

Do we still believe in humanity?
No, but we also haven’t lost hope.

Are we gonna cry right now?
No, but we will when you aren’t watching.

The white fluffy clouds

gently float in the endless sky

every time I look up

I see a different image

the artist in it creates

to my delight.

Clouds of pain

cover the wounds

of the heart.

Innocent tears fall

like gentle drops

of rain.

For breath, for belonging

Shalom, Abba,  
not just peace,  
but the kind that wraps  
around my weary shoulders  
like morning light.

You are the quiescence
between my questions,  
the stillness 
beneath my striving.

Abba, Father,  
not just parent,  
but the pulse  
that steadies me  
when I forget my name.

You walk with me  
through shadowed rooms,  
through spirals of doubt,  
and still you whisper,  
I am here.

Shalom, Abba,  
in your breath  
I find my own.  
In your silence,  
I remember  
I am not alone.

Until my work is done,  
until my last sigh sings,  
I will walk  
in your peace.

Poets come.

Poets go.

Poems remain—

left behind for someone

to read,

to admire,

and

to inspire

the next generation

to pick up the pen.