stare at nothing in particular,
but they imagine hands that once
embraced their own.

And that nothing in particular
materializes into
everything those eyes want to see -

another moment to hold those hands
and look into eyes that do not grieve at all.

Around age 30, she had begun this dance
Of conversation, how to suggest the low-fat
Without insulting the husband’s paunch
And need for chocolate chip and fudge ripple.

Twenty years later, they stand in the aisle,
freezing, as they open door after door
in pursuit of the perfect opportunity
to be guiltless,
in at least one aspect of their lives.  

“Is that mocha chip a two-for-seven deal?”
He asks, squinting at his wife.
It’s not low-fat, it’s only sugar-free,
She said, eyebrows creased
“Well, it looks like a good deal.”
He is reaching, ignoring the tap tap of her foot,
when she snatches the tub from his palms
and the freezer door closes the conversation.
They leave for home in silence,
with frozen peas.

My fiance and I watch,
each carrying tubs of french silk
and mango sorbet, and feeling the fullness
of potential among the frozen foods,
and I add waffles and bananas
to our feast.

Why have you forgotten Him?
Oh, you soul of bitterness.
I stand on the dry land,
surrounded by those who sense your rotten scent,
Oh my soul.

It is not well
that I should perish
unable to drench your putrid mess in water
This desert cannot compare
to the deep, deep well
that I so desperately need.

Oh my soul,
Why are you so downcast,
Oh my soul,
unable to gaze up toward the hope
that could save.

This is not well
Crackled and brittle
Oh my soul, I stumble
with this thirst.

If only I could find a well
Where deep calls to deep,
But that kind of roaring showers of glory
isn't for us, oh my soul.
Is it for us?

Oh
my
God,
have you forgotten
me
and my soul?

I relinquish the breath in my lungs,
Throw to the dirt all that I am,
Oh my soul, please leave me alone.
But dirt turns to rock
beneath me.
And cold
becomes wet
becomes a trickle
becomes a stream.

Oh my soul.
The river has found me.
OH
MY SOUL.

I stumble into hope, into grace, into a river
flowing with life.
This is our hope,
Oh my soul.
Be clean,
Oh my soul.
Drink deep,
Oh my soul.

And it is well
with my soul.

Rolling up his sleeves
in waves of watery time,
He unfurls fists
across the sand:

The old man's hands
outstretched
to bless the shore.

you know...
I never really thought
that I
would be
part of something
so neat

Knowing that
I have people around me
that love to openly chat
about and relate to
the one and only almighty king

Enjoying every moment we have
accomplishing to
have a better relationship
with each other, with our families, our friends, with Him, even ourselves.

Each and everyday
we learn from our mistakes
We live our lives
reality.
But once we all come together,
we are a brother, a sister
to be ablaze, for Him.

We are not only here to proclaim His word
but we are here for our voices to be heard

We come together
to worship
to pray
to honour
to adore

We are
young people,
being and bringing Christ wherever we are
here to preach the word of the lord

We are a family, proclaiming his name
witnessing, seeing, hearing and knowing
God loves us the way we love Him
together

When we are on that spiritual high
heck, you just feel you're up in that sky
with him, living it up

CFC-Youth has taught me
God's love is so unconditional and only He
Can judge me.

I'm slowly starting to figure myself out
Who I am, where I stand
With his help.

He loves me
And I love Him.
----------------------------
God is good
All the time
All the time
God is good

God is where?
Everywhere
and everywhere?
God is there.
- bcdh

My father was a bayonet.
My mother was gunpowder.
I was born
as a bullet fired from its chamber
aimed at the enemy's heart.

Cautious eyes never see
my burning hands before I
rip them apart
for I do not know what I am doing.
Agressive fists swing
toward my barbed wire skin,
but even the luckiest hands
lose their fingers.

I am not a time bomb
set to explode;
rather, I am shrapnel
from my bayonet father
and my gunpowder mother.

So, if you get too close
expect a fallout
and listen for my voice
in the reverberation:

*I do not know what I am doing.

you are a boy who misunderstood
what a girl like me needs.

all i need is friend
who makes cabinets in the sun
who runs marathon's for fun,
and listen to my drumming beat.

as the dump truck intercedes in a disturbing way.

don't misunderstand what I say.

what I say is lets be around
when the family goes out for dinner
when I'm too high to read a letter,
meant for someone else.

ALL there is between are to many streets
when I'm out of gas,
and need money to make,
my dreams real.