So it's National Coming Out day.
A moment to get it off your chest and say
that you're transgender, bisexual, lesbian or ***.
A lot of my friends I know feel this way.

I have brothers and sisters within Church walls
who feel this way too, but are terrifed to be called
any of these labels, lest they lose their home
and get stripped of everything they've ever known

their desires are talked about like these diseases
creases on their soul for which they could never atone
or iron out with good behavior
or the most devout times of prayer

I think of this, and my heart breaks for you
because I admit, I've been there too
wanting for things I'm afraid to say
because of the way that I could be shamed

I don't quite agree with calling myself ***
because Christ doesn't identify me this way
yet I can't help at times but be distracted
by the reality that I'm same-*** attracted

The church, I think, is too afraid
to face the fact that there are many who feel the same
we shame these desires from a distance,
talking like it's us VS them, as if that ecplises
the fact that this can happen to any of us

can we trust that Jesus is not afraid of this?
That his body is meant to be a safe haven
not a place where anyone fears being hated
for things they have no idea how how to change
as if anyone had a clue in the first place

I'm not here to justify my sin, or anyone else's
I'm not here to inspire sympathy or make excuses
I just want to admit that I'm not perfect
and if someone else is able to say it too because of me,

I think that's worth it.

In my life there are three things:
A feeling of emptiness,
a hollow laugh and blank face,
Hiding behind a mask

I wonder day by day
nothing changing
the world around me is unimportant.
In my life there are three things:

My own emotions elude me
they go about their days
hiding in the back of my brain
a feeling of emptiness

Upon my face there sits
a person I don't know
Because of all I ever am is
a hollow laugh and blank face

Day by day, night by night
nobody ever bothers to look
but I never bother to tell, I'm
hiding behind a mask

I was asked to create a holiday,
What about a pyjama day?
We would not get dressed at all,
Stay in bed, hide and stall,
Sit around in flannelette,
Stay in PJ's, don't get dressed,
In fact, don't wash or cook,
Do mental slumming with ****** books!

My sly and stalking beast

Which jumps and catches unawares

Grey light from within

A candle dimmed

Hidden from the world

Exhausted heart

Of half remembered dawns

******* slowly

On the fog

That is myself

I cannot feel

Until I cut

And bleed myself  

A path of living words

To follow to the light

As the quiet overtakes and the day moves into the night, my spirit longs for something that's right.

Something that gives me the way out of being continually torn.

And as the light pierces the darkness in the early morn, there is release for my broken heart, to take a new form.

Healing the breach and creating a bridge to living in an hour when everything seems to drive one to the edge.

Giving me the strength to walk without fear, knowing there is a purpose, and it's time to draw near.

Sunlight’s amber coverage,
rippling in hand with the sea,
retreated beneath the shadow
of day’s rupture.

The swathes of darkness cast
across its golden bolt, swelled
outward with the sensation
of wine spilt from a chalice.

A thickened red,
seeping into deepened water,
expanded in punctuated
pulsations.

Night hovered, a ghostly spectre,
above the sun; water; day.
The sea, alighting in recognition,
burnt raw its tumbling waves,

casting orange flames in its
reflection- its essence to
the ashes of day- to
receive the ivory colouring

of bone upon bone.
The sun surrendered,
and in the darkness
a small sound rung forth.

Regret threaded its being
with the intensity of a storm’s approach.
‘Adieu,’  a voice called, clear before the
chalice of the sea. ‘Until tomorrow.’