I've fallen to mapping
the deepest parts of my forehead
again. these days it feels like
I'm climbing the jungle gym of my mind,
clearing away cobwebs and
emptying
dust-covered boxes into my lap,
searching yellowed scrolls and broken crates
for diamonds.
it's not that I feel far from
the present, just as if
I'm swimming through it,
my head the only part of me
above the water.

it's been a little while but
I am still only climbing,
praying, and
scribbling words
on a familiar page.

surely
You are found in the sound
of raindrops dripping
sprinkling, storming,
coming down in sheets.

and i must strive
to remind myself
of Your love
(patient and overwhelming
and profound)
every morning
so i do not lose sight
of the vibrance
of living.

I think I would like to be a hummingbird,
flitting around on my own,
pausing on a branch for several seconds
to catch my breath
before moving on.

as it is,
I am constantly stopping and starting
simultaneously,
starting to learn and then
stopping to think.

perhaps, in a way,
I am already
a hummingbird.

what happened to you
that made you change?
you were a different person
when I knew you.
now your values are deeper than your veins
you hug people less but now you mean it.
your confidence itself
has morphed into something
less like a sun-bright dress
and more like an adamantine
gem,
a pendent you wear close to you
under layers and layers and jackets and sweaters.
do you still respond to the same name?
the creature you are now
is surely a different being
than the one you were before.

the devil likes to aim for my shins,
knowing if he takes out my legs
I might stop trying to walk.
by now there must be many bruises
from every time he has near
succeeded.
but I am still standing.
(God is still holding me up.)
my steps may be wobbly and slow,
but they are still steps.

I have found the strongest shin guards
and duct-taped them to my legs.
They are a sort of armor
for this fight.

i am not the lost sheep, for You know exactly where i am. but i am a stupid one.

i know i shouldn’t lag behind the flock or wander over to the edge of the cliff repeatedly to check how far we’ve come, but i do anyway.

i’m weak and my wool falls into my eyes so i can hardly see You, but i make only half-hearted efforts to swipe it away.

Father, i am not worthy of Your love in any way. but You give my hooves strength to keep following You.

thank You, Jesus. please, keep me close to You. I will wipe this wool from my eyes and keep stumbling after You, no matter how much it costs.

for You will be my strength and my song and my salvation.

the thoughts in my head are as numerous
as the stars scattered across the sky.
when I brainstorm
rain begins to fall.
inklings of ideas
send shivers down my spine.
I soak up some as possibilities,
throw others away in half a blink.
and then, some days:
a single thread of Lightning
finds its way through the storm,
guiding a handpicked bouquet of ideas
into a colorful tapestry.
it is my Maker,
weaving my words into rocky streams.
stories finding their way onto paper
as they flow from their Mountain source.

following my headlights
down a rainy street at midnight.
street signs illuminated:
warnings of curvy roads ahead
and mentions of a city that is to come.

head lights-
lights in my head.
I don't mean a car,
I mean the laser beams
shining in the darkest recesses
of my head.
pinpricks of tune in
an abyss of dissonance,
stringing together into a song
of faith.
of hope in the future and
focus in the present.
I will follow these head lights
down every rainy street.

I've begun to summon
a voice of my own
but it still falls short
when I need it the most.

I still have so much left to learn and yet
it just feels like I should
already know all of it.
I have only just begun
to dig my own place
in confidence and wonder and transparent faith.
but every time I look up it seems
I'm always losing my grip on more than I keep.
I am not hopeless, but
a little out-of-world, I spose.
it's been a while since I've had
a glimpse of where my path goes.

(stay by my side, Lord,
lend me Your hand.
together we'll walk
upon the dry land.)

i slice my heart with strokes of pen;
blood flows as ink onto the page.
when i share my writings with my friends
they hold my life force in their hands.

now
words only sputter and spurt;
suddenly it hurts to hurt.
writing exhausts and reading consumes
over my head numbness looms.
words ought to follow each place i go
yet now i find them falling short.
i'm clinging to Your rays of light
fighting paralysis, reaching for Sight.

“Confío en Ti.”
The words rip the tastebuds off my tongue,
the skin from the back of my throat,
the bile from the pit of my stomach—
all raked out by the utterance of this phrase
that has never been so hard for me to say.
“Confío en Ti.”
“I trust in You.”
God, I—
I can't say those words aloud.
Not just yet.
It hurts, oh God,
to put my hope solely in You.
But I will write it.
I will write it over and over until
the words roll off my tongue,
until saying them feels like it has never been easier.

“Confío en Ti.”
“Confío en Ti.”
“Confío en Ti.”

I trust You, Lord.

you lay still and stretched out
in your backyard,
stars thriving leagues above you.

can you feel it?
the pulsing of the earth,
beneath your hands, your heels?
the feeling of drifting,
anchored firm but drowsily drifting:
this is how it feels to exist.

a thousand dreams
cradled in each of our laps.
pinwheels and unicorn hairs
plucked from creativity's skies
and yanked into the light.
dreams held close,
skipping down hallways beside our beating hearts
humming to fairy-like tunes in our fingertips.
how can our dreams be so vivid, so near,
yet so far from our grasp
at the same time?