When I met you
I met a new me
and it’s like learning how to fly
I’m in the air for the first time

just to tell you
I have a VORACIOUS appetite
for love and honesty

I cannot see what lies in front
the hill I march upon is steep
(though not the sheer before)
All I know:
I've moved ahead a square
upon the Great Lord's board
A new rope is on my shoulder
Another stripe of gold

I am weary of the worry,
Weary of the pain,
Weary of the dreary teary,
Weary of the shame,
Tired of all the sickness in me,
And tired of my name.
But deep inside my heart of hearts,
There lives a drop of sun,
And when life’s at its darkest,
To here my hurt can run,
For when all about is dimming,
It shines brighter, ‘til I’m brimming.
And Jesus’s hand that’s holding mine,
Soothes my heart, now back in line,
I’m grateful for this time I have,
To lie and wait for you,
To hold on tight, to cry and sigh,
And know that you are true.

when I met you
You opened up my world
Now I’m left missing your smile
like a child who’s lost their first tooth
They’ve never known better before
like a child I wait
for the permanent tooth to grow into place
the little wound reminds me that I lost you

It is agony to die, to live in death
to wait as He says wait
to breathe as He says breathe
to rise as He says rise
It is Joy to be lifted up!
But achingly
so slowly
as He shakes away the dust
and grave clothes

I see you,
Sister,
Struggle with your monsters
In a place I cannot go,
The only thing
That I can do,
Is watch
And say,
Look up,
The sun is coming,
Wait,
The night is almost over,
And your arm,
Is only growing,
And your mouth,
Now turned down,
Will be happier,
Our Father,
Is not like ours,
He is not
Disappointed,
He knows,
Your weakness,
Better than you,
And it is his joy,
To carve it out,
No fear,
No cruelty,
No accusing eyes,
But open
Accepting,

Please don't open my heart
like a medicine chest
all these bottles keep me alive
I'm afraid you'll remove my best remedies
already I've let you see too many labels
the stained and dusty papers
your fingers brushed against some nerve
and the doors are beginning to close

I whisper
call the doctor

It’s late
and it’s been so long
since such pressure built up inside my art room
my heart’s now exploding
again
like so many glorious paint tubes

My hand is cramped
the muscles and skin begin to meld
with the smooth hilt of a sword
I grip but know not how to swing

I’m just one of many people you hurt
You hurt me because that’s who you were
You didn’t know how to not hurt
It wasn’t that you were slipping up or were in a bad head space, you did what you did because that’s WHO YOU WERE
I don’t know why I didn’t understand that
I don’t know why I thought for so long, just maybe, things could be different or have been different.
You weren’t for me. You were a clumsy oaf but you were dropping everyone since childhood. I wasn’t special. I wasn’t the first, and I wasn’t the last.
I thought so highly of love and it’s power, and I wasn’t wrong. Love is that powerful, but it can do nothing for someone who won’t receive it.
You couldn’t receive my love because of WHO YOU WERE. You couldn’t receive any kind of love very much.
I wasn’t a fool for trying.
I offered you something beautiful and undying, and again, I wasn’t special. I wasn’t the first to offer you a real love you couldn’t handle, and I wasn’t the last.
My heart was just one small casualty in all your destruction. For you it was all in a day’s work and you couldn’t help stepping on what your eyes were blind to.
Maybe one day you’ll see all that you did, but I don’t wish that for you. Even if you become capable of understanding the destruction from the lies you planted in me, it would be placed next to an understanding of everything you did to everyone else.
And that’s a lot of ****.
I’ve come to realize I don’t need your apology. You apologizing would be like a child apologizing for breaking vases during tantrums he threw as a toddler. You didn’t know better because no one raised you better.
I’m fine now.
I have new vases.

In a web of polyester,
Strung across brick branches,
We struggled to our death,
How did we forget our companions?
And deny our protectors?
The little ones are life,
And the simple are sweet,
My bones cry out in condemnation,
Of the many who blindly blundered before me,
Their stickiness surrounds me,
Their sins remain to bind me,
A path weaving on the cliff edge of fire,
I long for my prelude to finish,
And this frail beginning to blossom into all I will become,
Tedious is time,
And I almost envy the evanescent babes,
But for my Glory,
I would have no strength
Fear flees and to me comes joy with peacock feathers,
Living is color,
And I am brightest green

I struggle,
With wondering,
If I can’t possibly,
Have something new to say,
Out of a thousand well spent pencils,
My own pen is pointless,
And of a billion books,
My pages are useless,
The swirling symbols redundant,
My signed name is a lie,
And a plagiarism,
No,
My words are my own,
Are new,
For a generation,
Yes,
The ideas are the same,
The flavors of old dishes,
Served on new plates,
To ****** tongues,
No,
Just as Rassouli,
Paints what others,
Have already,
known,
But never seen in color,
So can I write what others have felt,
But never read.

some people come along
just to teach you what home feels like
to show you that home is possible

sometimes I indulge myself
in wondering
and I muse upon what
if anything
could make me love you again
There really isn’t much
the page is relievingly white
except for a line
saying your love must long be
Quiet and Unrequite
before ever again embedding in my heart
and life

And it was given to man
to take the world
and make it each their own

I’d like to meet you on the road
one day
And my heart would fall
down the slippery *****
and find hope
and a stream
at the bottom

There’s nothing like the Savior’s arms,
As he wraps his hands around my heart,
For even though he asks for me,
There is nothing selfish in his plea,
For its not taking, but its giving
Its not dying, but its living,
The pain is a stretching feeling,
From this love my head is reeling,

So we wait
as humans on the earth
Each step is another into waiting
Every stroke and push
waiting for the next
whether you are sitting still
or racing down the road
We wait
For a time to wait again?
or is it for the The End?
To end all waiting
Does Wait beat like our hearts inside our chest
drip down from spinning lines of DNA
and cry upon the winds of Soul
Painting our Spirits with the background color
as all on the earth do share
In Waiting

My thoughts on the place of my birth,
Are dismal,
White walls,
White town,
Are really brown,
Like dead leaves,
Long forgotten on the ground,
What colors I see are few,
And joy peeps through
A couple of cracks,
In the house boards,
I wish to cut the cords,
And forget,
My boring northern roots,
But tightened them around
My heart to hurt,
And pull my chin down,
I wish to have something,
To stand upon,
What’s a place upon the earth,
Above another?
Why is this a burn in my mind?
I’ll claim my beginning,
In God’s mind,
In his pool of rainbows,
From where all butterflies come.

I hid something in my world,
And hoped that you would find it,
I slipped your firm description in a line of my own thoughts,
And knew I hoped in vain,
That you would come across them,
For what could cause you to stop and stare?
As close as you stand, you stand too far away,
To spare a glance deep enough to see me,
Though myself I do not hide.

Today I still feel like I’m suffocating
And my anger starts to boil faster . . .
It will be 12 years in January . . .
13 years old when I fell foul prey
to an illness many say
is caused by saying “Yes” too much
and too little else
These stupid 1% diseases
caused by lack of fermented foods and adequate self-actualization
I don’t identify with this illness
I don’t think I’d be noticeably different without it
But I see as through a glass darkly
And I believe all this pain will be beautiful someday
not dampened by these complaints

You must think I feel fine without you
I hate to disappoint you

This new sword
so awkward in my grip
I start to fumble and blister
Fear rises
My brows tightened
My teeth draw blood from my own lips
Until I remember
the same old shield
still at my side
Covers me always

It doesn’t stop cutting you
but you learn to trust in healing
It’s written in your scars
Everything heals
And your fears fade

I didn’t know I could scare so easily,
That I was flighty,
While claiming to be steadfast,
So quick to turn aside,
To run away,
At a greeting given joyfully,
Fear has gripped my heart,
Masquerading in the form of weariness,
Of you,
Am I afraid for myself?
Or do I fear for you?

I don't know why
my first thoughts in consciousness
are often joyous praise and hope
in the moment before I turn to fall asleep
for a few moments more
My soul exuberantly greeting
though silent
My God

in our desire to accept the raw and deepness of a soul
we often forget our little, daily actions pave the path to those treasures

What is it like,
And what shall I compare it to?
Is it like when you find the perfect shoes, but can’t afford them?
Or read the perfect book, and the sequel is never written, even though they promised?
It’s like that before you forget it,
Before someone else comes along,
Or you find that those shoes really aren’t that great, not a good fit,
Those perfect words turn ugly in your mind, and you keep on searching.
But I haven’t forgotten, or discovered something distasteful,  
I’m still hoping, longing, admiring,
Praying for a miracle, waiting for someone else.

You are sunlight
glinting through prisms of raindrops
You fiercely shine a rainforest of colors
Reflecting the universe’s naked heart
A thrill and a marching drumbeat
a quiet window seat next to a bookcase
full of undiscovered prose
and also my beloved classics
So earthy and human
But rising up
Your aura shoots a golden beam
to infinite heavens
You speak and my heart responds

One of the laws of the world is that love must be proved.
Love is nothing without action,
And a sacrificial heart is invisible without sacrifice.
Words are sweet to hear, but do little for belief
Just as light does not aid sight without reflective surfaces,
Love lies limp if no circumstance comes where it must work and show itself,
We wonder at the cross, but it was necessary.
With the laws that God has established, I believe that it may have been impossible for him to love us and not die for us. Not dying would have been incompatible with his love, and the laws of love required death. Dying shows us the extent of his love. What would be the point of him loving us so much he would die for us, if he never chose to take that step?   Yes, there are many people who would die for their loved ones and never do, but they show the extent of their love in other sacrificial ways.  The cross was the only sacrifice that God could make, without it he could make no others.

I finally am being firmly convinced,
Of my beauty,
My amazement and joy,
From the greetings of mirrors,
Grows,
And I begin to wish I was none,
But myself,
But as I appreciate my outward self the more,
I fear the coming fade,
That may come at any moment,
Or a sudden accident,
To strip away,
My long, tan legs,
My bouncy, delicious brown curls,
My rosy cheeks,
And plump lips,
Would leave a hole,
Like the tearing,
Of friends separated,
At the moments of first intimacy,
Not desolate,
Nor inconsolable,
Just saddened for a while,
For the hauntings of the curse.
Was I created to be admired?
What is the price I have to pay,
To live upon the earth?
Endurance,
Doesn’t always look pretty,
But I live with the promise,
That all that was and is and will be beautiful,
Will be given me,
After I have endured.

I want to see myself as perfect,
But the truth is,
I fall very short,
Being better than some is never good enough,
And I tend to ignore my faults,
Too lazy to spit the poison out,
It wouldn’t be too hard to change,
But I parade my strengths,
In a chain,
That becomes costume jewelry,
When treated as all I am.
My paper heart crumples,
Under the weight of this shame,
Quicker than it burns,
In the flames from my cheeks,
Nothing is unforgiven,
And no one can judge you for your struggle,
For who can say yours is worse than mine?
My voice croaks and dies,
In the effort to speak my sin,
And my head falls back,
Unable to rise and pronounce,
For I know my brothers will not forgive,
As my Master does.
As I have been guilty countless times,
In the same overbearing spirit,
Forgetting the weakness of the soul,
My own heart’s love of the forbidden,
And secret feedings on decadence.


Sins are meant to be accepted,
As what they really are,
Not hidden, nor flaunted
For there is no guilt is Christ,
Rise and rejoice,
Knowing you are free,
For the Lord is with you now,
He is able to keep you from falling,
Though you fall again,
You are not lost.

I used to think that I could see,
muscles rippling under my skin,
I used to think that I would be too strong to die young,
but I rather wished I could,
I used to believe I'd always be the one,
to run and carry all the others, not be carried myself,
I thought I'd never be sick, but here I am,
I thought that I could overcome by just being me,
that my unformed parts would come to harden into unbreakable steel,
but now I stand in tatters, who will sew my holes?
Who will feed me birthing fire and make me proper clothes?
Will I ever be like I used to be?
I want to be better, better than that.
I want to be tall, and strong, like perhaps I never was.
I asked for humbleness, is this the way?
I hated my pride and prayed that it would die, is this how you answer my cry?
It doesn't seem Your time to me, Your time to take me to yourself, so help me through this now
Tell me where to go, where to find the thing to drink, to make my face solidify,
Or heal me

Is a dream, a real dream
A good dream
if it doesn’t make you shiver
if it doesn’t make you shake
if it doesn’t make
you sure you’ll make mistake after mistake?
Is it ever really worth it?
If it doesn’t make you quake
infuse your mind with plans and worry
and at night keep you awake?
What’s the point of living
What’s the point of having smarts?
If it doesn’t make you work
with all your strength and arts
using everything from all your parts
until your straining chest feels like
you’ve been on the wrong side
in a game of deadly darts?

If all your courage it doesn’t take
In the end will you feel a fake?
Maybe you won’t
But I refuse in life to undertake
what I know could just be handed to me
on a plate
If I just wait

My mind oscillates
From mist to Scarlet scores
From gray-blue hazy hints of music
To quite strong Metal chords
I feel the fingers brush my lips
And new tattoos come blooming out
Paisley curves upon my arms
Words at a Waltz
Paint and sketches tumble in
Stark lines burn down
Black white blue red

Though I hear of distress and riots
and I listen to fights everyday
Though I see fire set upon the cities
And hear angry voices yelling
I will find the strength to have patience in anxiety
Though my jaw aches from grinding my teeth
And I toss and turn on my bed
Though I have tears for breakfast
and tears with Tylenol for dinner
Though I am separated from my friends
And cut off from my family
Though I have little work
and no serenity and rest when my hands are still
I will find my Lover and in him Happiness
He who saves me is at my side
with him I outrun all my demons
and rise up to see the Angels

next time I'd like to be even more quiet with my words
If you want to know
Ask
I'll spend my time listening
and working at my own goals
Learn to say no
not choosing over my family
The one who loves me knows

It’s been so long since my heart was so dangerously close to being exposed
upon the catwalk that is called connection
It frightens me
but whispers of peace have become my food
As I gently coax my heart into the open
I’m relieved to find I’m no longer paralyzed
nor terrified
nor am I too desperate for love
that I would quickly accept a fool

In a spring pool surrounded by the blushing blossoms of Japanese Magnolias
I feel the depths of sorrow pull me
my fingers brushing mud and sludge
scraping bottom stones
my tears add to rising waters
and I spin in the circling emotions of fighting moments
Winter doth not surrender easily
why have blossoms appeared so rapidly
in air remaining much too chill
the signs of growth sprout undeniable
upon a world yet frustratingly still
Spring comes
where is her promised respite?

Tonight I’m drowning in tears
because I didn’t let myself speak

I think my greatest power discovery
is finding I’m strong enough to love myself
and it’s not hard
because I’m very lovable