bound by an oath you gave
before you even knew your own name,
held hostage to their righteousness,
consumed by the weight of their sins.
waiting for a punishment that never comes,
hoping for a timely release,
counting the days until you're summoned.
free at last,
free at last.
your only inheritance is fear,
bound by an oath you gave
before you could even speak.

In Rome,
There is silence.
Church bells lay still,
Once grand city,
Echoing the trills of black birds.
Their song, a lost cry of those who died.
In the deathly silence,
Of the plague.

Three things I can’t live without…

Coffee, Creativity & Church

For coffee fuels my creativity;
My creativity comes from my worth –
A worth I only learnt of, going to church.

Preacher please,
Would you open your doors for me?
I have sinned yes,
But is sin is common in my profession's play.
The night is awfully cold,
If only you'd give me a moment,
To warm my hands by the hearth.
Certainly one of God's high and mighty,
Would let a poor man thaw his fingers.
I miss their mobility,
I can barely hold my own hands,
Much less a pen.

Friends go to church on Sundays and girl sleeps in.
Friends wear tiny little crosses on their necks and she wears nothing.
Friends believe in a divine, arbitrary, God and she believes in nothing.

“She is more of a scientific girl,” she says.
“God created the universe,” they say.
“The Big Bang created the universe.”
“Well, why did the Big Bang happen?” They ask.
“Scientists do not know but it is not because of a God,” she says.

Yes, she turns to science and friends turn to their tiny pretty cross necklaces.
She likes science because science is reliable. science is consistent, does not forget, does not lie, does not exile you for making one mistake.

Maybe that is why she does not believe.
Not because she thinks herself above them.

But because she is afraid.

“Do not fall for tricks of the devil,” they say but she has fallen for the snake's lies many of times and relished in it every. single. instance.

She is Eve and has taken from the poison tree again and again.
That is why she is afraid.
Because if Heaven is real then she would go to Hell.

“God is all forgiving,” they say.

Lies, Adam and Eve ended up lying in a pile of broken promises and death at the end, didn’t they?

If God was so forgiving, would he forgive her for having more sins than she does hairs on her head?
If God was so forgiving would he forgive her for losing faith?
If God was so loving then why would he curse her with this fate?

If God believed in love, why doesn’t he love her? Why does he not love me?

Today, Catholics celebrate the Presentation of Mary (by her parents to the church). In the days of old, the church was the primary medium of education and, in some cases, parents would dedicate their first born to the church as a sort of tithe giving back to God in gratitude for the first fruits of their blessings.

When we are young our parents took us and presented us to the church, and we are placed in the care of wise men and women to be taught and brought up in the life and the way and the truth. This is in hopes that we would grow in wisdom and age and favor before both God and man. When we are a little older, we can choose to present ourselves before the Lord and confess by our lips and our actions that we believe and serve. We take ownership of our faith. It is not simply our parents' faith anymore.

The presentation is an offering, a sacrifice, a return in gratitude of blessings. Let us, then, come daily before the Lord Our God and present ourselves to Him, to thank Him, to offer Him all our joys and sorrows, blessings, temptations, work and play. Let us begin by presenting Him with our day.

What would happen if WE would rededicate our hearts, our days, and our lives to Christ our Lord? Doing it can't make things any worse than they are by not doing it. So why not give it a shot?

on sunday I found myself
flipping through vintage postcards
looking for the church where we first kissed
I think I wanted to show you what it used to be
but I'm not sure
all I know is that you've done it already
infiltrated my every thought

Christ and disciples
gaze from the stone tympanum —
Frozen redeemer

In darkness, a church
of carved Baroque stone
catches me walking
unawares and alone.

Two stone hands reach out
from the church outer wall.
A gesture of blessing
or a prayer for us all

in stony carved silence
that echoes the voice
of a God we can’t hear,
who stays quiet — by choice?

Just when we need
to hear they’re right here,
they feel like a veiled cloud
that is more distant than near.

Still these outstretched hands
remind me of this:
Divine’s in the touch
of human hands’ godlike gift.