I woke up one day and found myself in a room
with walls covered in pieces of the soul of
the girl sleeping in my arms.

It was beautiful and terrible to behold,
just as is she, just as was the knowing
at that moment that I'm a Writer
that loves an Artist....
I'm a character in my own book
and I'm ******.

I love your scars
all of them.
The obvious ones
the ones other people see
the year old wound across your middle
you showed off to me the night we met.
When I ran my hands over you
I could see the hidden ones
the deep cuts in your heart unhealed.
I tasted the passion and the copper in your kiss.
I knew even then that I'd never
get you out of my soul.

Where's a soft, safe place to land
In a desperate hour
When you find you cannot stand
And you're a mighty tower?

Where's a shoulder you can cry on
When you're the one who's tough?
Where's the place where
you can go
When you have had enough?

Where is God at times
When you are like an owl?
When you're in the 18th round
And want to toss the towel?

Sometimes I just feel this way!
Sometimes it's just hard!
It seems folks want to lean on me
When I'm a house of cards!

I know that God is closest
When He seems far away
I know that in my intellect
But it doesn't feel that way!

So I'll put on praises
To music I bequeath
Sing to my Lord and Savior
Though through gritted teeth!

I will read the Psalms
About David's many trials
HE didn't always dance a jig.
HE didn't always smile!

I'm not going to sell you stuff
You don't want to buy
I'm not gonna tell a tale
I'm not going to die, but
Sometimes *I NEED A SHOULDER

Upon which to lie!

Every now and again

we understand that we have a choice

between wearing the mask

or throwing it away.

There is one image that comes before all others, taken a long time ago and thousands of miles from here. And there is the memory tied to it, buried so deeply and so diligently as to have almost faded altogether until now. Should the entire construct of my world, my very soul, come crashing down in some unforseen horror, I will still be who I was in that image. I was given a blanket and a head dress handed down through generations, invited by people I'd never met, to be part of a sacred circle with Tlingit families in a language I didn't know, to a tune I had never heard. In a longhouse far away, I danced with them, and was alive. I was five years old.

A man left a so-called "good career" to follow his heart, to pursue work that he thought would be fulfilling...
And he bled-out into his art.
The old self, and fear, he set to killing.
Although he was paid far less,
And his finances became a mess...
But a hint of a smile emerged all on its own sometimes
He spent his days with pen in hand and verses in his mind...

The kingdom of heaven is like this:
A sower sowed some seeds,
But the ground looked too rocky,
And the ground appeared too thorny,
But the sower sowed there anyway

And the worries of the world and the lack of rootedness tried to choke out the green growth
But this life is not yet extinguished,
And there's a crack in the pavement through which the narrow chutes are peeking,
And the green apogees are pointing toward the sun.

He who has ears, let him hear.

I wish you all Happy Holidays, a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Festivus, Yule etc. Whichever tradition you follow, the heart of the celebration is the same. It's about rebirth (among the other good things like family and compassion and healing), the mystery of new things by some miracle born of old. We're told that we are supposed to be happy, that to not be cheerful this day is miserly and selfish, it's implied that if we aren't feeling perfect then we should fake it for people, that we should fake happiness so our loved ones can be genuinely happy by not seeing our sadness. But this is a hard, sad time for many of us, no matter how hard we try to be hopeful. I wish that I could really believe, rather than just hope, that the old world, the world of xenophobia and hatred, so many acts of violence and horror that I can't even keep track of them all...I wish that I could be sure that the world is being renewed by a higher power. In the face of so much, it may seem that you're just a small person, in a small place, with small problems and small gifts and a small heart, and this whole thing is a worthless gesture. Well, it isn't...this isn't just an accident, we're not just flotsam in a nameless, faceless mass of humanity with no real purpose and no value. Everything matters, and every day we have a chance to make a difference, every day we are given opportunities to be a part of miracles. All of us have the power to reach out and touch another person, to give hope instead of taking it away. There really is a better world out there, and every positive act, every genuine smile, every gentle word and every courageous stand against hatred brings us closer. And finally, a Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night, and if I wake up tomorrow to find that all my appliances have come to life and burst into song and a gaggle of short bearded guys expecting food and talking about some kind of stolen gold and dragons and crap, I may just have to start taking things a little more seriously ;)