Pushed in close under a shoulder,
Knobby knees pressed together,
Four intentionally designed souls
Enveloped by a warm blanket,
Blocking the ocean winds—
Uneven sand under tired feet,
Simple words and hushed voices,
All amounting to prayer and praise
For the center of our circle—
Our eternal Saviour.

As I laid down to rest,
My glasses dug
Painfully into my head,
A constant reminder
That I must get up,
Pull myself
From the condition
Of words drummed
Into my skull—
All that is shameful,
Stillness, breath,
‘Stand up and move—

Tire your soul,’
until you realize
there is nothing left

The chains cinched tighter
Around my wrists.
I felt them dig into my ankles,
And my blood grow hot
In my throat.
But my mind was clear—
Sinking deeply into a soft,
Pastel embrace.
I was in my faith.
Jesus held me, his promises
Forming a warm wall
Around my soul.
I let go of the outward pain,
Knowing no one
Could touch me here.

I wish I could say
That I never envisioned
My soft hands surrounded,
Encapsulated, by yours—
The rough skin like a shield
Against the world.

But that simply

Wouldn't

be true.

Fallen heads and tucked ankles that
Grew numb under the pressure
Of their prayers.

The Sanctuary was deserted,
Save for those still held
By Jesus.

He drew them Close to Him,
Laying love and peace
On their hearts.

With time, the spluttering organs
Were no longer made
Of stone.

The old man carved
Into the tree,
Spoke words only
Small children
Could hear.

His eyes, knolls
Studied by barn owls
As they serenaded
The night,
Shined with mirth
As adults shook
Their sensible heads
And marched onward.

The newest souls
Always stopped to
Marvel at his words,
As if they knew 

God’s wisdom so
Frequently over-
Complicated by
Their caretakers.

Every so often,
A child in an older
Body, would stop
And listen as they
Did in their youth.

It was they who exited
The forest both older
And younger than before.

I searched the city streets,
The gum-strewn sidewalk
And the hurrying people
With downturned eyes.

I searched the rainforest,
The ropes in the trees and
The family that lived too far
For frequent phone calls.

I walked the corners of my
House, wondering if my
Horizons were too wide—
But that was not the problem.

I searched the air in metal birds,
Looking for meaning in the
Formation of the stars, knowing,
Somewhere, I must belong.

I searched for a place to
Fill my heart and make it
Heavy with joy instead of
Sadness and leadweight loss.

I searched and I searched,
Over fairy moss hills and
Through low valleyways,
Above the towering treetops.

No matter how far or wide
I walked, my heart always
Longed for a home this earth
Could never provide.

I folded my legs under me,
Blocking out the beauty of
All I wished could fulfill,
And prayed to my Father.

His presence was the only
True home I would ever have.
Is that why it was so hard to
Live here, in this life?

I fell at the feet
Of an old, peeling
Altar.
The stone was
Unremarkable
& still.
Yet behind it
Stood the man
Of Grace
And Love.  
I could not see
Him, nor hear
His voice.
Only I knew He
Was there.
He walked around
The pedestal and
Crouched
Beside me, holding
Out His steady hands
To catch
The falling tears
That dripped from
My prayers.

I felt it catch the bus this morning.
It checked through the crossword,
Humming to itself.

I could feel its low heels clack, clack
On the sidewalk, turning down the
Smooth driveway.

It didn’t ring the bell—no, it only twisted
A key it had found long ago, and stepped
Inside, sighing.

The house was too bright with too many
Warm lamps and sun-lit windows. It
Pulled the blinds.

They unrolled sharply, wincing at the
Creeping darkness. But, ‘much better,’
It thought.

How long would it stay this time?
With bony hands, it scrawled
‘Indefinitely.’

I am not even good enough
For a panic attack
To seize me.
The anxiety holds
Every part of me, only to let
Go, figuring I am
Not worthy.

The thoughts dawdled
As they walked through
The valves of my heart.
They repeated “I, I, I”
As if it were a passkey,
Fueling the sedation
That sunk into my body,
The darkness making
My limbs heavy and my
Head loll to the ground.
With every thought I
Made about me, the
Deeper I felt I was
N ot  W orthy

A fire burns,
yet it is still
pleasureable?
Mind games,
and supple words,
He makes me
feel wanted.
But what part
of me
is he
after?

Trailing fingerprints,
Decopage boxes,
Dotting hillside cliffs.
Trees straining for clouds,
Legs dangling,
Mulling over questions.

Where was I
In the beginning?

An intentional design,
Sitting, legs crossed,
In the heavens.

The mountain slopes,
Leaning from the sea,
Rippling V formations,
Souls watching
The crippling depths,
Seeing only peace,
Imagining themselves
A set of wings.

I only remember—
Those who hope
In the Lord
Will soar on wings
Like eagles.

Hunkered down in my heart
Sat a man of love letters,
His flesh tearstained paper,
Scrawled with the pleas
Of His love I so frequently
Ignored, breathing quiet,
Patient as He prayed with
Eyes closed, setting the
Example for the soul who
Would one day sit beside
Him, sharing my heart even
As He remained First, forever
My source of Security,
Peace, and Joy.

Milestones of burned feet
Over scorching sand—
The tan lines of my beliefs
Left by the bathing suit
Of the worlds’ lies—
I rushed towards the ocean,
The cool, crushing weight
Of the love that ground
The rocks of falsity
To a meaningless shore.
How beautiful it is
That the waves still brush
Over them, faithful,
Forever trying to redeem
And reclaim all that had
To be ground to humbleness.

I held my throat
With a longing hand,
Searching for the voice
That was missing. 

All this time,
I had been speaking
The words of the world,
Instead of relying on
Those of God.
I warped my tongue
To fit the whims of those
Around me, but in
Doing so, I
Prohibited Him
From speaking
Through
Me.

A delicate wax seal over stained,

Crumpled paper, grooved with an


Ornate design as if it were meant

For the royal family; but the note

Underneath is torn at the corners

And bent at odd angles, utterly

Undeserving of such a beautiful

Mark--as if they were reasurring

Words pressed into a stubborn

Heart, truthful even as the paper

Refuses to believe in their warmth.

I want. . .
. . .i can't
What is the disconnect?
how did i. . .
. . .get here
In this position?

I downplayed my emotions
For a living.

I glossed over them
With serious, diplomatic
Expressions, until my heart
Couldn’t tell the difference.

With every feeling that
Pushed its way to the surface,
I hung glasses and a fake
Mustache over its features,
Disguising it into something
I could live with.