The beautiful scars that you have gain from the storms you have endure

Lites up your Most beautiful soul, revealing your strength through it.

Touching the Hearts of those that gain a glimpse of it and knew..

Just how much that you had to endure, with Christ Jesus help.

To see the Creator, in your chemistry connected to Him here.

The same Savior whom went to the cross for us on Calvary.

And then on the 3rd day Risen to rescue us from our Sins.

Those same scars, that hides within you were put there.

Because of the Spirit that dwells within you Protected you.

For in reality you should be dead, and in the bowels of the earth.

But you have been rescued, from death several times here.

Because he is not done with you, Praise our Savior God.

he waits until his feet
hit his dirt floor before
he thanks the Great One
for allowing the sun
to rise again    

he walks through
well worn weeds to make
water, and again gives thanks
he could pass the water, and saw
no serpent in the grass  

this is a blessed day
for he has yams and fruit
left in his hut; he finds little
mold on these gifts from the
ground, the trees    

he looks to the sky
for omens--it is mauve
with morning, but the clouds
have no foreboding shapes
again, he gives thanks  

before and after his repast,
there are the prayers, then the silence
in which he has learned he will hear the voice
which commands all, its words in cadence
with the slow beating in his chest

If no man is an island,
  what can one man be

If no man stands alone,
  to write the words, himself to free

If never beats that distant drum,
  one marching out of step

Who will swim against the tide,
—their ink forever wet

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Sitting alone in a darkened room
Pondering here…
…………………………..what should I say?

This pen is almost silent now
These words depend on what I write
I wonder how the story goes but
I not so sure that anyone knows

My muse does not attend today
She’s left me here with naught to say
The pitter-patter of her tiny feet
Is nowhere near that I can hear

Her wafting jewels of thoughts unfurled
Are locked up tight beyond my mind
Her patient touch I love so much
Is just a memory (a phantom's touch)

I figure if I write this down
The world will turn around again
Perhaps there’s something more to say
Or maybe there’s another way

I can’t be sure—I won’t pretend
The thoughts I have are better said
Than written down and left for dead
They’re churning now inside my head

So listen close and you will hear
The mystery of this darkened place
The chance there is to make it clear
Is almost gone and not so near

They tell me give up
Give up on something I want
I told them get lost

monument
now upon the faded ground there lies
one more feather