He told me to take a breath after forgetting to breathe.
I didn't realize He would fill my lungs
only for them to take my breath away again.

*—S.C., October 23, 2014

Tired faces, tired places. Her aching heart quietly losing the battle to her soul's sweet singing as her feet followed Dauntless' modest steps.

*—S.C., October 22, 2014

Yesterday tears cascaded and I whispered,
"This cross is too heavy."

Today He said "I know," and showed me His.

*—S.C., October 21, 2014

Gratification rooted in nobodies
walked out
while gentleness for the self
walked in.
The counting stopped, no longer blocked, passion
unlocked.

*—S.C., October 20, 2014

When I miss you, I miss too much
I miss who I am when I’m with you
I miss what you make me feel
I miss how loved I felt
How the feelings of love never went away
When I was with you

When I love you, I love you deeply
With the love only a mother loves with
The way a loved one loves another
The love that couldn’t be found anywhere else
The love I won’t allow you to never escape from
When I was with you

When I held you, I held you tightly
I held the fond memories we had
Tighter than the grip around your neck
When I expressed my love for you
Tighter than our passion filled nights
Of forcing myself inside of you
When I was with you

When I hit you, I hit hard
With the affection I’ve always had for you
As if the bruises on your face
Don’t remind you of me
And all the moments we shared
And every waking hour you live
You’ll never forget the times
When I was with you

you were born
with a pure light
lied over your body,
that was soon
corrupted by sin
and hatred for
your own kind,
hatred for
human beings
just like you,
society taught
you to hate
anyone different
than yourself
anyone who
may look different
or smell different
or even live different,
society robbed you
of your freedom
to choose who
you loved and
who you trusted,
society robbed you
from getting to know
the people who
may have been
exactly what
you needed in
this cruel life.

WOW, isn't that lovely?
Would you call your child that? Would you leave them there,    
   hanging without a piece of    
   identity to clarify just what  
   *they are?
Would you leave them there
   without a beautiful name that
   suits them dearly like: Grace,
   Hope, Joy or Micah, Joe,
   Ben?
Would you call your child Untitled?
No?
Then why would you call the
   poetry that you've raise from
   an idea and helped it to
   develop Untitled?
Be careful, poems have
   feelings too!

I hope the rain comes
In the slumbering of night
Knocking my window