save us

yay for an acrostic, rhyme, and free verse mash-up. a very merry christmas to you all. ❤

lonelyxmas

Can’t you hear the silent screams and loud laments

Haunting these decked-out streets tonight?

Right when peace is said to have arrived,

Instead this world is wracked by evil’s blight.

Some cry joy in fake fluorescent-light voices,

Too many others cry in corners of despair.

Mary, did you know that your Child’s birth

Accounts for the pulse of unspoken pain in the air?

Still, we need saving. Even now, we need saving. Save us.

you shall call His name Jesus for He shall save His people from their sins

__from their fears (Everlasting Father)

__from their frailty (Mighty God)

__from their folly (Wonderful Counselor)

__from their pain (Man of Sorrows)

__from their loneliness (Emmanuel)

__from this dark, dark world (Prince of Peace)

you shall call His name Jesus

for He

shall

save

i want to know your story

so we were traveling a few weeks back and one thing I love about touring cities and just being in new places (or old ones, for that matter) is people-watching.

and no, I’m not a Whovian but I have friends who are (which I guess is almost the same thing?). 

peoplewalkingcity

I look down from the bus, see one gray-sleeved arm hanging out of the car window next to us

draped casually, holding a cigarette

one seat over, two pale hands clasped, thumbs moving nervously, restlessly

shiny black leather coat, teal scarf, blonde hair in a messy bun, glasses, green-blue eyes, narrow chin, clear skin

looking out her window, face turned slightly away

he has a gray sweater, short “hair-colored” hair, staring out straight ahead

calm but not peaceful

the car is a black BMW, very nice, shiny silver controls on a black dashboard, pulling a trailer behind it

dirty old trailer behind shiny new car

what is going on behind your calm face, casual arm?

why do your fingers fidget and fret for peace?


in the square, I see a girl in a blue coat, smooth, sleek, felt-like, above her black tights

her face, hidden deep within the hood, is very pale

she stands, hands shoved in that lovely coat’s pockets, looking off to the side

I think, “Aloof. Affected.”

then, she smiles

eyes light up, bright blue, like her coat, the smile sliding across her whole face like a sunbeam across a polished wood floor

I look for who or what her eyes have lit upon, and I think I see her, a friend

laughing as she crosses the square

brown hair, round face, joyful

does she know how she makes the other girl’s face, once cold, even frightened, light up like that?

does she know she has the power to part the clouds over a human soul?


who are you

where do you come from

what is your name

what do you seek

why do you cry

what makes you laugh

what fears flood you at night

why do you get out of bed each day

who are you

i want to know your story

after all,

we are all stories in the end

to the moon

Hi, everyone! I just wanted to thank you all for your comments—as always, they mean a ton to me. I’m still trying to figure out how to help my arms, and at this point, it’s all I can do to stay on top of my school work. I really miss chatting with you all, and I feel awful about not replying to comments. I’m making sure to like them to let you know that I do read them and that they bless me. Thanks for being awesome, guys, and I look forward to when I can get more involved again. Until then, I’m going to post poems/musings when I can. Enjoy!

the supermoon last Sunday
the supermoon last Sunday

if I was offered Saturn’s rings

or Neptune’s diamond rain

or Jupiter’s many moons

 

if I was given Andromeda

or the North Star

or Halley’s brief brilliance

 

I’d turn them down for you

I’d turn it all down for you

 

’cause it’s you who smiled at me

when I first stared at the sky

on a sacred night long ago

 

’cause it’s you who witnessed

when I wrestled with

my midnight monsters

 

’cause it’s you who shone

through my window and

lulled me to sleep with a song

 

’cause it’s you who stood still

when my whole world spun,

you my beacon of home

 

I just want the rings you make on the sea

I just want the diamonds you make of my tears

I just want you, holding the darkness around us at bay

 

I’d turn it all down for you

prepare for the changing of the leaves

 

dsc_0160

prepare for the changing of the leaves

cover the sky in its shroud

of soft and stormy cloud

and hide the sun so proud

and let drop the rain that groans, that grieves

prepare for the changing of the leaves

~

this whisper, this wind, this dancing breeze

turn it cool and clear

let it tear away all fear

and sing for all to hear

and let loose this goddess in the eaves

prepare for the changing of the leaves

~

in the fertile fields, the golden sheaves

polish them with light

woven from the stars of night

this fiery, faerie sight

and flood the tables with rainbow feasts

prepare for the changing of the leaves

~

let the scent of the air,

so fresh and so fair

let the hue of the heights,

deep blue blinding bright

let the taste of the fruit,

in gratefulness brewed—

let this all be a herald,

autumn’s flaming carol

in death a celebration now He weaves

preparing for the changing of the leaves

i am the darkness

Hi folks! As I work on healing from this tendonitis, I’m not going to be posting regularly. However, I’m not going to disappear entirely—hopefully I’ll be able to post something about once a week. Thanks as always for being such amazing readers. 

reachingintodarkness

i am afraid of the darkness

the darkness inside

inside me

 

life whirls by,

the days hurled high,

and you try to swim

but you have no strength

so you sink

into the blur

and you drink

the elixir

of pleasure

 

(i’ll do anything to escape

escape the pain

the pain of me)

 

the potion soothes,

the pathway smooth,

and you keep on drinking

and you keep on drowning

so you sink

into the mire

and you think

you’re higher—

liar

 

and there in the pit

you’ve carved out for yourself

you taste the dirt in your mouth

and feel the pain you tried to flee

wrack every nerve in vicious glee

 

and there in the pit

you are forced to admit to yourself

that it’s dirty and it’s dark

and the pleasure betrayed

and that this whole hell is

 

me

 

i am the pain

i am the lie

i am the dirty

i am the dark

 

i am the darkness

 

what do you do when the war you were waging

against some far away foe

turns into a war you can’t wage because

it is against you, yourself

 

how can darkness drive out darkness?

 

what if you don’t even want to drive it out?

 

i am ice,

fatally numb

i am fire,

insatiably destructive

i am nothing,

vast emptiness

i am everything,

sickening gluttony

i am darkness

 

and in all my great strength—

strength to kill and to hate

obliterate

annihilate

strength to destroy all things,

myself most of all—

i cannot

reach

the

light

 

 

and the Light says:

now you are ready

and reaches out

to sear the darkness

with its infinite glory

 

and the darkness in all its strength

cannot stand before it

and the darkness is gone

but somehow you are still there

and now

 

now you are light


For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. ~ Eph. 5:8

They Sing of Sunshine and Shadows

It’s something I’ve pondered a lot these past few years—ever since I started writing, really. How do you balance the truth of evil with the hope of good? Because I feel like most artists—most people—lean towards one over the other. Either they are unduly pessimistic or naively optimistic. But darkness and light both exist. 

rosew:thorns

They sing of sunshine and roses

While ignoring the fact that

The sun blinds and

Roses bear thorns.

They dip their toes into the pool of life

And shrink back, afraid

Of the depths,

Trapped in a cage woven of lies.

Lies, like the light they laud—

Flimsy,  false, failing.

~

They sing of shadows and tears

While ignoring the fact that

Shadows are created by light and

Tears bring healing.

They imagine themselves to be plundering the depths

While they cower in mist, afraid

Of the light beyond the dark,

Captive to their fears.

Fears, flung from their false courage—

Weak, whimpering, wallowing.

They sing of sunshine and shadows,

Facing the darkness,

Finding the light.

They dive deep, lose oxygen, and

Learn to breathe underwater.

They are free to weave a weapon—

A sword of roses that pierce,

Tears that cleanse.

And in the truth, on the truth, they stand—

Sober, smiling, strong.

To Love is to Be Weak

Hey all! My trip got delayed by a few days (note to all travelers: always check the requirements for unaccompanied minors traveling to foreign countries!), so I figured I’d pop in and share this villanelle I wrote a little while ago. 

via unsplash.com
via unsplash.com

 

To love is to be weak, to be shamed,

This they all told me, eyes shadowed with fear.

But without love, you can never be named.

 

Old memories, like photographs framed

With faded flowers, make the message clear:

To love is to be weak, to be shamed.

 

You hide your heart, your soul so maimed,

Erecting a wall around it with blood and tears—

But without love, you can never be named.

 

The scars of previous burns proclaimed

How open hearts—the folly!—only invite a spear.

To love is to be weak, to be shamed.

 

And when your passion untamed flamed,

You fled the heat, terrified to let love interfere—

But without love, you can never be named.

 

Courage, dear heart, let Love reclaim:

Let the truth of it destroy your veneer.

To love is to be weak, to be shamed,

But without love, you can never be named.

this is my war (love vs. hate)

{ to the victims of the Orlando shooting; to their families, friends, neighbors; to everyone everywhere reeling in sorrow and shock: } 

 

i turn on the news

in the morning, when the sun’s shining

and the words on the screen

hammer my heart

and the sun’s no longer shining

 

(don’t they realize how many lives they stab,

how it’s not just the victims

but the families

and the friends

and the surrounding citizens

and the strangers like me

who stare at a screen

and are brought to their knees?

or do they realize all that

and still do it?)

 

i turn to a blank page

at noon, when the sun’s high

and the weakness of my words

leaves me weeping

and now only anger is high

 

(because what do you say

in the face of this pain, of this rage,

of this senseless, pointless, meaningless—

i hate meaningless things—

of this tearing away of forty-nine souls?

God, why?

and what can i say, what can i possibly say,

that won’t hurt, that will heal?)

 

i read a book

a week ago, when the breeze was dancing

and it said listen to silence,

silence can speak; it’s a song

and the breeze continued dancing

 

(’cause how do you pray

when you’ve shed the illusion of

a blue-green orb spinning in serenity,

when you open your eyes to the

black cords strangling it?

how do you pray

when logic screams:

how could a good God let this happen?

how do you pray when you want to rage,

when the words lie dead on the page,

when all beauty’s locked in a cage?)

 

i pedal to work

in the afternoon, with the shadows shading

and a whisper of breeze

caresses my cheek

and the shadows refresh with their shading

 

(but:

why didn’t i die?

why didn’t more people die?

why did You give us

the sun and the breeze,

sonnets and songs,

another breath, another breath, another breath?

i am breathing

billions more are still breathing

i’m not allowed to ask why

i have no right)

 

i sit on my bed

on this day, when love wars with hate,

and the words i can’t find

drift off into silence

this is my warring with hate

 

(my war: to tell You i can’t pray,

to hear You in the silence—

You weeping

He is weeping, He is weeping

my war: to fumble at a poem

and rest in the mess because

i have created something,

made new life when lives have been taken away,

this is my tribute to you

i’m weeping with you

this is my war:

creation in the face of death

prayer in the face of hate)

 

when Love joins the fray,

hate can’t last another day

i am fighting for you