Poetry

Song of the Dawn

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Before night closes his sentry eyes to sleep through the coming light,
Silent dew drops slip in.
Resting on green grass in the dark gray
Glistening with excitement for the coming glory.
They sparkle like the stars in the black velvet sky.
For one moment, the night sky and the green earth glow as one.
Like fireflies lighting up the surrounding dark
Their hearts beat light together.
They hold their breath and all is still.
It is coming!
A golden glow awakens on the deep blue horizon.
She yawns yellow, breathing out pink and purple.
Stretching her golden rays she touches each green blade;
And with her pink lips kisses each dew drop warm.
Quietly she lullabies night to shut his weary eyes
Swaddling him in her orange and lavender arms.
Gently, she covers him with her turquoise blanket
Heating the air with her soft song.
Slowly, each flower unfolds their sleepy petals
To soak up her melodious light.
Morning doves flutter their feathers awake
And begin to coo to her tune.
Silently, she stretches through the windowsill
Filtering her light through flowing white curtains
to embrace even me.
With her warm caress she melts the cold scars of my heart.
We are new again.

Poetry

Pieces of Me

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I can feel their words digging into my thoughts
Like termites burrow through cement walls.
They’re so small they bite in where no one can see
Building their red clay towers into my mind.
You’re such a disappointment
You’re not who we thought.
You hypocrite.
Ungrateful girl.
Abuser.
Disrespectful.
Bad role model.
Worthless.
Failure.
Grain by grain, brick by brick.
Each day, several times a day
I sweep the destructive red mounds away.
I thought I’d forgiven the spiteful glances and
Poisonous tongues. But the venom still spreads.
Somehow during the night while I sleep
Foundations are being set and red dirt steeples rise
Piercing my heart once again.
I trace their red path searching for the source
To shovel out the root of bitterness.
But the invisibly clear creatures are nowhere to be found.
All I see is the destructive path they leave.
Red dirt seeping through the sockets of my eyes
Red footprints climbing up the cracks of my skin
Red tunnels hiding under the rugs of my mind.
One day,
When I look in the mirror,
Is that what I’ll see?
All the hateful parts of them that bit out the soft pieces of me?

Poetry

An Abundance

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Burying this seed with dirty hands reminds me of my heart. I close my hands around it. I need to protect it. No one else can. No one else can keep me safe. No one can bury this seed where I want it to be buried.

Once it’s in the ground it is safe. Safe from the torrential rains and piercing lightning. Safe from the vultures that would prey. Safe in its warm, dark bed. Safe from the hurt of the sun’s scorching fingers.

Resting here under ground, I’m certain no reaper can reach me. I am so deep. All else dies. No weaknesses survive. No pains. No hurt to hound me. But sorrow has a way of digging a hole.

Now I realize what I have done. The seed I bury, the heart I hide, don’t die in the ground. The sorrows I have tried to plow away are just seeds sprouting to produce a more abundant life; they fertilize me.

Poetry

Anchored

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Sun poured into summer blue beating down on us floating on the paddle boat. We couldn’t move. Cross currents from bigger boats entrapped us into a constant struggle. But we didn’t mind. Waves of happiness stirred up our laughter. If only every struggle could be this much fun. Usually in the midst of suffering we’d rather jump ship. Maybe it had something to do with the comfort of not being adrift alone; like how buoys rock in tune. We were floating together. Floating. Not struggling.

Sometimes to reach shore we just have to disintegrate like the salt mingling in the sea. But the tide tempts our reach surging us forward then dragging us back. We see the sun fading fast, orange like a life jacket drifting away. Struggling. Not floating.

Then the water becomes a cool escape enticing me to slip in. I know I can make it by swimming under the currents. But how can I leave my friends to paddle in my place? Why should I enjoy the escape and leave them entrapped? Struggling. Not floating.

Suddenly laughter awakens me from the lull of my dreams and I remember the joy of fellowship. Floating. Not struggling.

There are no tidal waves to capsize me that my fellow friends have not swallowed. We are not tossed beyond what our grated skin can bare, but shipwrecked to strengthen our sails. We all have the choice to sink or to tread. We are the creaking, pumping, bleeding veins of this vessel. Floating. Not struggling.

The waves may tear at our tongues, the sand sear our eyes, and the sun singe our skin; but the Anchor is not to snap. Just let go of the ropes. Throw our cargo of cares overboard. And just float. Not struggle.

Poetry

Freeze Me Here

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In a cold room
warm whispers out the window
give me goose bumps.

I find relief in your
enveloping warmth but
push you away
like a hot blanket
suffocating my legs
until they itch to run.
Why do I fearfully ache to be still?

You’ve basked me in the
blessedness of perfect unity.
But now the season flurries in
unbinding me from the bond
built into me like boiling
water unravels a web into silk.
Maybe we can become just as intricate.

It’s time.
I’m on the doorstep.
but it feels more like I’m
stepping off a tree limb
I had no fear of climbing.
It’s always harder climbing
down than climbing up.

We both know we should do this
quick like a band aid.
But I still let you keep holding me
with your hopeful haunting heat.
And like a band aid
I know the burn will still sting
After you’re torn away.

I just want to melt
back into your fiery arms.
Because I can’t soak you in enough
like dirt thirsting for dew every
morning. So I sweat to fill up
every pore with you.

Our time is about to freeze over.
If only we could freeze it here.
But minutes drop
like leaves, leaving me
falling
deeper
in you.

I’m afraid we’ll subtly fade
from healthy green to crippled brown.
But I will embrace this cold.
This ache.
Because this is where my
frosty fingers remember
your pumping veins
etched in mine like a
vine imprinted in cement.

My goose bumps return
and my tummy turns cold
as your dusty whispers
gleam in on me from the window.

If only it was just glass separating
your arms from
me.

Poetry

Life Abundant

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Who knew this black burnt land
could hide such extravagant light
within its blood stained sand?

With searing darkness
suffocating scorched souls
light is a thirst only surviving searchers find.

Even when found,
Its taste illuminates
the starving void.
A hollow ache ever
grumbling for more.

This is the midnight
eclipsing our hope.
Eclipsing.
Not Obliterating.

For the shadows of night
cannot exist without a
corona of light. It’s through
extreme deep,

radiance is purely forged.
A flame is set ablaze
even darkness cannot quench.

Though hidden,
singed remnants assure
life breaking in.

Feeding famine land
with dew drops from stars
feeling for stubborn ground
to till black secret centers
soft as flesh.

Steadily, painfully
Hopeful heat is branding in.
Our parched lips are kissed.

So if darkness harbingers
this blood beating life,
let it shine extravagant.

Poetry

Maturing Pains

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“My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.” –Job

I read Your love in His scars
Bleeding “I so loved the world.”
And jealously I strained to read,
You “so loved me.”

I coveted to be the only one
On your mind like the one thorn
Penetrating deeper. The only one
You crossed your arms to hold.

But I know every beating corpse
Needs a crimson kiss to stain
Infected lips white. Only You can
Chisel our eyes awake.

Still, my open eyes sleep.

So You allured me into emptiness
Whispering tenderly.
I breathed in your lungs the soothing
Scent of Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrows.

Your fragrance lingered in my veins
Drinking me into your exploding sky
Until my spirit was solitary
In purples and pinks.

You said to know You “so loved me”
I must eat pain. So You pricked my heart.
Sewing me into deep black dungeons
where I forgot the taste of light.

In the womb of the pit,
Anguish shaped my deformed frame;
Bruising, breaking, and rebinding my bones
until refining suffering bore me new.

Your lashing rains and breakers slayed me.
But Your anchored hand pulled
me through the depths, watering
my throat and eyes to taste and see.

Then I read it in my scars…
and I knew.