Took I the heavy sack of my sin
And dragged it into the sea
Of salvation--watched it drowning
To the bed of grace and mercy.

Sometimes I wonder if I should give up on you...

My heart can't take the hurt anymore,
Maybe I should get up and walk out that door.
Seeing you everyday, I wish you would come and take the pain away.
But I know that you won't.
And I just don't want to see you with her any longer.

Maybe if I move on I could become so much stronger?

It may take awhile, but someday I will find someone and instead of tears,
They will make me smile.

Should I give up on you?

Please, I'm begging for an answer.
But I know that I will never get one from you,
Will I?

As for now, I will continue to love you until,
I start to doubt my feelings once again.
This endless cycle will probably never end.
So I will keep on asking,

Should I give up on you?


The answer is no,
Not quite yet....

One star two star
Little moon
Something dark and something blue
Something here something there
Something underneath the stairs
Trapped under pounding feet
It wakes to falling dust storms
Life of isolation, darkness, pain
It can only hope to be better reborn
For what it says and what it does
In the deep dark depths below
Are not made for human consumption
If you feel the need to know
You have been warned
All is as it appears
There is no light at the end of the tunnel and no hidden layer of love
With power in its presence
Luster in its lack
Stealing the breath from out of dreams
And never giving back
Your attempts to run are futile and his claws embrace you tightly
In space they cannot hear you scream
But this is not space; this is the space under the stairs where your darkest dream lives

Born into a house of red hair
soulless people and
beer

my great grandmother is 101 and four months
and she has contracted Alzheimer’s
which means she sees those who have died before her
like her husband
two of her sisters and
four of her nine children

Her sister died just yesterday at 100 and 17 days sleeping in her bed

I was named after dead relatives

Moira for a cousin who died at 20,
before I was ever even born,
a cousin who sang like a bird
and could have been a mermaid
a beauty with straight white teeth and blonde hair
who found death after struggling with anorexia

Katherine for my great aunt who I never met
but my mother told me of her wearing sunglasses and
her sleek black car and
silky hair always tied back in red ribbons and
how she would sneak cookies to the children
holding her legs in the kitchen

I was born into an Irish house
I was born to people who have slaved their life away to make it

My great grandmother was born in Ireland in 1912
and came to America with her family when she was 10

my great grandfather was a French Canadian born in Quebec
who I was told was gentle and quiet
who smoked when he was happy or sad
and worked on houses and cars and a large family

I was born into the legacy
I was born with their blood in my veins

Two warriors faced each other
Prepared to fight to the death
Because it was the way it was
Blades ready in the shining sun

Everyone stayed in hiding
Afraid of being caught in the fight
So many innocents had been killed
Because they had got in the way

From nowhere came the young man
Boldly stepping between the two
They seemed ready to slay him
But then the young man spoke

The warriors put away their swords
Each warrior bowed to the young man
Both warriors walked side by side
Never would they fight again

The young man was never seen again
Nobody ever knew what he said
Nobody even knew where he came from
The young softly spoken man called peace


copyright Chris Smith 2012