My tears slid under the door
And unlocked its hinge,
Control shaking my fingers,
Finally worn out.

The compassionate *****
Of my Father’s shoulders
Lowered to my level,
Stilling the tremors.

Ramshackle debris of Me
Littered the space,
The results of my own failed,
Selfish attempts.

I handed it to Him, the mess
Of the Room I was afraid
He would devestate, feeling
Only deep relief.

A sodden dullness,
A damp rag over my eyes,
Sinking into my forehead.
It covered the aching
Boasting its reign over
My dilapidated mind.

A warm hand swept
Over my skin, checking
It’s rising temperature.
The back of a hand
Gentle on a burning head,
Replacing the towel
I had used to solve my
Own ignored problems—

Was it better to feel
Everything at once,
Or nothing at all?
The thoughts began to
Dwindle, dust in early
Light, until my mind
Was so numb to the
Pain, I couldn’t feel
My Savior’s love.

I blocked out the bad,
The unthinkable, and
Ceaselessly sealed
The cracks in my wall—
How did I wonder
Where all the good
Had gone,
If my mission was to
Let nothing in at all?

Back slouched over,
Legs in a V,
Eyes blurring grass
Into a murky green.
Feeling *****
And used,
Sitting in the season
I was too worn out
To enjoy.

Questions alcoved in the long,
Curved necks of lamp posts—
A God who reaches His light
Toward the murky darkness.
Souls slouched in posture on
The side of the road, unseeing,
Focused inward, cradling the
Night close until their eyes
Stop percieving the daylight.
There must be rows and rows
Of them, all lined up on the curb,
Hugging their knees close, blind
To the shoulders inches from
Their aching hearts—
Children of the world, chastising
Their lack of knowledge, their
Inability to move—
The narrow road moves on,
A river of hope outlined by a
Figure of patience, watching as
The bodies of cars buckle and
Deflate on the wide avenue,
Drivers unfolding from the smoking
Holds to the row of people who 

Relied on the promise of themselves.

I let the pool widen at my feet,
The vanity of myself leaking
From my body, gathering at
My ankles, forming an ocean.

One day, as I no longer relied
On my own strength, I saw
I was walking on the water
Of Grace.

Rended heartstrings
on a beat-up guitar,
A voice trying to
reach heaven—

The borders between
souls merge, only
Family in the air of
the Spirit—

An arm's length
Of distance--
A question on
Hesistant lips.
A shake of a head,
An answer tinted
With resignation--

Because he is a fragile soul
Formed of glass and passion—
The pieces lay on their sides
—already broken.

A cold wind in tired eyes,
Tears that spoke
Into the quiet dark--
A conversation
Of the pain I refused
To share,
Finding its place below
Dormant window sills--
Steeped in tea,
Sludgy beneath the stars--
A walk home
To a place that was really
Only a house.

Pale yellow pages,
Torn at the sides,
The words thoughtful
As they fill up the
Ordained space—
His hand is smooth,
Full of love, using
Us as writing pads
To spread His grace.
We are flyers of the
Words He lays on our
Hearts, flitting in the
Wind, until He decides
We’re all out of pages—
Beauty returning to
Its likeness again.

A passage of unseen looks,
A stolen question, sequestered
By worries—
Can I see you
For a moment?
Words laid at a doorstep,
Fingers quietly wound together,
A hand holding a head--
Don’t speak,
You don’t have to.
God knows your heart better
Than I ever could.
Bring it to Him,
Fall apart,
Feel the Spirit catch you—
It is not my arms,
But the love of Christ
Supporting you through me,
Gracefully broken.

A wall of empty polaroids,
Picture frames of memories
That only existed in my head—
I waded in my worries, bathing
In the darkness of my knuckles

As they held tight to the control
Around my life’s throat—
At the bottom of growth, nowhere
To go but upward, toward the
Light of glistening things, of His
Glory working to shine through
The drapes I closed to stew in

My pain—before I was Saved.

One heart tied to mine, slowly
Loosening as the strings of Jesus
Grew stronger, brighter, fastened
Around a sapling He was dredging
From the soil—when did I outgrow
The other flowers of belief that
Surrounded? To one soul, I was
Unrecognizable, and to others, I
Was only catching up, floundering,
Until I realized He was the Center.

The hours began to pass
Like strawberry jam
On sourdough toast
In the morning.

Silk-thin pages flapping
In the gentle wind,

Birds of God’s creation
Squawking above.

The sun seeped through
The clouds like honey,
Droplets of joy, of

God’s presence.

Breathe in, breathe out,
The revival of the soul,
Hours gained as I
Rest in my Lord.

The sharp corners of stairs,
A valley of ups and downs,
Housing a river of tears—
My struggles swelled at my
Ankles, slowly trying to rise.
If I did not climb forward,
Upward, towards my Father,
I would be drowned by this
World, caught in the Death
He had defeated on an old,
Waterlogged cross for the
Redemption of our souls.

The indestructable diamond—
Made from pressure, suffering,
Shaped by the love that never
Relents, the Spirit working in
Our Chests as He turns the
Coal of our hearts into the
Glistening imitation of Him.

A circle of safety
Within a bubble
of activity—
Unknown souls
in unknown bodies—

Beams of light
interspersed by mist,
The reverberations
found a home in my
Head, spiraling in
my chest.

A melodious sway,
heads that hummed
In perfect tandem,
their voices disembodied
As they filled the empty,
soulless stadium.

Skinned knees
in thrifted denim,
Heads that tried to
shake out all of
Their worries.

The fallen over depravity
of a generations' worth,
Measured in the scales
of a pained boys' voice.

Lifted on a box of air,
my thoughts propelling me
Higher than the thoughts
shielding my vision for
The future, like tall heads
in a thrushing crowd.

Walking on the outskirts,
A smile crimped clean,
Holding on to the hope
Of leftover’s satiation.
Fifty feet away, zoom in
Until it’s almost like you’re
There, meeting success,
Your arm laden with their
Coats, falling into the idea
That you’re worth only
The change in the pockets.

Your hands grip around
Your midsection, thoughts
Cinching chains on your
Potential--uncurl them.
Watch the static in your
Hair loosen as you give
Yourself up to the arms
Of the only opinion that
Matters, the only love that
Can disprove the doubts
Of this insatiable world.

His shirt flagged in the wind,
One of the marks designating
Danger, riptides.

There was a lankness to his
Frame, an objectivity to the
Way he stood.

He did not blink as salt flew
In his eyes—unmoving as the
Tide lapped.

His shoulders were pinched,
As if clothesline pins held him
To the spot.

The seagulls bawked at his
Indecision, the sea welcoming
Him into its folds.

Was it the cold of the waves
That showed him the warmth

Of his body?

The life had grown dormant
Inside of him, but he felt it
Then, unfurling.

No one called out for him,
Voices were plastic bags,
Litter in the wind.

His unexplained cowardice
Was his saving grace, the
Treasure unseen.

Rolled tight with insecurities,
A coat to protect me from the cold.
Knowledge deflects hurt.
I hate, and I hate, and I hate--
So your hatred can never pierce
The enmity I have already created.
I take care of them like animals,
Plants, fueling the dislike,
Until compliments hurt me more
Than any insult ever did.

Eloquent. Conscientous.
I was a model student.
I was a girl with a sleek
Ponytail, glasses poised
On the bridge of my nose.
Careful. Reserved. Moral.
Did I laugh because I felt
I had to? Was the enjoyment
Real, or did I convince myself
That life was full, when it was
An empty jar, flies buzzing
Over the perforated top?
Beaming. Intelligent. Joyful.
How did I manage to hide
All of my woes? Did no one
Truly suspect my grand act?
I thought I was truthful. I
Thought I knew myself.
Graceful. Observant. Kind.
I was self-conscious that
I smelled of salt—dried tears
On my clothes I didn’t want
People to find, not while I was
The bright light they had come
To expect. Was this wrong?

Doubtful. Pessimistic. Empty.
What words truly describe me?

Let it fall away—
The distractions and
The faulty imitations
Of our world—

Your love becomes
A field of peace,
Empty of all I have
Used to replace You.

It begins to rain.
Soft, red droplets,
Falling on my nose
And cleaning the 

Soot on my skin.

It is a flood of
Grace only making
The wildflowers
Bloom brighter, the
Sun burn deeper, and
My heart feel more
Real in my chest.

I breathe in, knowing
The clouds cannot
Hold Your love, nor
Stop Your  blood from
Covering our sin.

A hop down memory lane,
A world of darkness
Written in the cobblestones.
I relived it all on purpose,
Knowing it was where
I would find my inspiration.

. . .

I shifted the focus
From the brokeness
Of my heart
To the peace that lies
In the grace of my God.

Knees to my chest,
My chin growing numb
As it rests on my hands—
I bundle the Holy Ghost
As it sighs in my heart.