Security in Contentment (Poem)

Contentment is not found in the “one day”, it’s found in the flowers along the highway. It’s found in the secret place where solitude leads to breakthrough. It’s in the break time at noon, but also the sweat that drips from your brow when your working harder then you need to because you know it’s a joy to be able to give yourself fully into what you do.

The sun is out and the sky is blue, yet even if it was raining, it’s alright too, because the flowers along the highway would not have bloomed if it wasn’t for the rain.

I will not push what is to come, because right now is the sweetest place to be. It’s painful at moments, but that pain is worth it every time I come out on the other side wiser and stronger, more aware of the purpose of that painful moment.

I love the days that are purely happy! They give us hope that pain is temporary, but I don’t want to live a day discontent because things hadn’t gone my way.

May my life be a banner of joy, laughter, humor and awe. Would steadfastness be my anchor, love be my compass, compassion, my rudder, and faithful be the name of my ship I sail through this life.

Jesus is the wind in my sails and the builder of my craft, so may he be truly glorified. I do not boast in who I am, but boast in him. I don’t want to stand alone (and I know I don’t) admired for who I’ve become. I want to encourage every person along into their own destiny, fully known and dependent on the author the wind, unwatered by the waves that will come their way.

If I’m looked at as a great person and people aren’t encouraged to live a life greater than mine, may I decrease so that God’s grace is lifted high. Humble my heart God, so your truth can come through, that people don’t see just me, but see you shining through.

I dream to join a fleet that joins together, each uniquely and securely trusting in the purposes God has set before them. There are many among me, and many to join along. would our flags bare the cross of Christ no matter if it is trampled, mocked or or weathered. It is the only kingdom that brings freedom in surrender and will surely last forever. Join me.

Love Like a Lighthouse (poem)

When your shoulder no longer feels like a safe place to land; When you still give your heart, but you can’t give a hand; When your mouth wants to speak, but you know the words won’t stand; Is there anything to do when your love is like sand?

When your grace feels abrasive, and your peace feels like distance; When your love leaves a bitter aftertaste, Is there any way to comfort their soul?

When what you gave was at one time able to be taken and used like gasoline and now it’s as good as water in a gas tank, is all hope lost?

When a friend, or lover or family member is no longer able to see you like they used to, you must let another love them altogether. You must let go of the tether. It’s no longer held in their hand, it’s around their neck. To hold on is to cause them pain, no matter how much you’re trying to help, you’re stopping the flow of oxygen to their brain.

Love like a lighthouse. If they sail away, may they find another beacon to guide them, but stay steadfast in who you are. Shine brighter and brighter. Fuel your light, grow stronger in who you are. If they let you in again, you will both be better. If they move along, pray them onward.

You can’t hold them to you, let go of their anchor. Pray as they go. Show love when they let you. Don’t stop living, don’t stop growing. Please let them go, stop fighting and groping. You’re stunting their growth, you won’t bring them healing. Just let them go, you’re no longer shelter. Let them get clear of the storm, the waves are unbearable, let go, let go, LET GO!

And as you finally let them drift away, the sky might not clear. They might not cross over the horizon like you feared, but if they do, they’re out of your grasp, and there’s no longer a thing you can do.

Sometimes to love is to let go; if it’s your grasp today and your heart later, so be it. If your heart never stops singing for the one you’re releasing, may it be a song as free as the breeze, with your heart beyond a fantasy of what could be and into a realm where love transcends feelings.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails…”

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Grief: Where Eyes Are Open (Poem)

Today, I hugged a lady that, last time I saw her, yelled at me for something so silly, I couldn’t even believe. Her face was red then, but it was also red today. Last time, it was from rage, and today from pain, because her husband has now two months been in the grave, almost to the day.

I had a chorus teacher in high school who was known for excellence, her grit, and for making students cry or at least want to quit any activity she would lead. I also know that before she passed onto the other side, she flourished in a place she didn’t choose to show often; in compassion. I saw her become love out loud and as her body withered down and the cancer tried to drown her out, her joy through the pain would grow stronger and stronger, even to her last day.

One time, I lost my dog. Before this happened, I would have privately mocked someone who blubbered over such a thing. I almost had him a year when I heard he was hit by a car. I cried so hard, screamed so loud, and could not speak; when I would try, I would only wheeze. I never felt that way before that day. I was broken. I could not alter what had happened. My heart has broken since through the death of friends, the moving away of my twin, and relationships that would finish.

And isn’t it interesting how in the darkest hours and seasons of grieving, that the ugliness in us takes a season of receding? Our eyes are open to greater things if we recognize that life is so much shorter then we like to credit it for, and eternity is so much grater then holding onto pain.

Understanding trumps rage, compassion smacks power in the face, and taking on someone’s pain as your pain is no kin to mockery.

A hug beat a fist, a listening ear can save a life, and a hand can hold someone’s world from crashing down.

Let the things that seem to break you down hold weight in your freedom and don’t loose it when you’re on the other side.

Let it lead you to a life that remembers pain is not permanent, but love and time are, in fact, the only things that can really heal that.

Humble Hero (Poem)

Being hopeful and full of emotions does not make a man a hero.

You have not won simply because the fog has lifted.

You are not made new when you’ve rounded the bend from a struggle you stumbled your way through.

When we feel on top of the world and our life has taken a turn; when pain is replaced with laughter; when toil is turned to rest, we can not boast as if we’ve done a thing.

Character is is not proven by a hard season ending, but by endurance in the pain. Relief is not a personal gain, but grace from the creator of the day.

Rejoice when the storm subsides, but thank the one who brought you through to the other side. Do not boast or claim that it was by your own strength or even in how you’ve changed. Without God’s strength, we each can fall back into any phase, any vice, any maze, and it’s only because of Him that we can be saved!

In humility is where we find victory. Character is where we can continue to live healthy. All else is vanity, and every other boast except in Jesus Christ, the king of kings is false security.

May I not even be honored for the art or talents I bring. May I not identify with worthless things. May my God be where I seek out peace. May my heart be totally given and my spirit ever free.

Longing for Home (Poem)

when you find someone who feels like home, you want to hold them close. you want the moments to last a little longer when you’re with them. You hope the moments will lead to more moment like the last, that the hope you found in them will not stay in the past.

If a person like that couldn’t change your path, I don’t know what could. It’s not what they say, or how, per say they act, but it is who they are. Your emotions feel so distant, yet so close at hand. You know you’re not dreaming, but at the same time, it feels like it can’t be reality.

As time goes on, you pray that what you felt won’t fade; that the other’s heart felt what you felt. That you might have felt as much like home as their company felt to you.

If there is any hope in a memory of a moment in time, if it be to find yourself at home with them or another, it is that home can be found and does not need to be forgotten. Sometimes, it is to be fought for and other times let free.

That longing for home will not end here, for it’s etched deep inside of me.

Good Intentions (Poem)

To write is something I know I can’t stop doing. When I take a break, it’s like the communication from my heart and my head gets rerouted. I don’t fully understand the neurological connection that bridges them, but the only connection I see is my pen.

I’ve been full of good intentions, full of quotations. I’ve been full of good ideas and dreams and expectations. I’d been full when in community and full when on my own.

Most recently, I’ve been alive with other people and empty on my own, but that empty feeling is starting to flow into my conversations. That emptiness has begun to seep into my friendships. The way I sometimes have nothing to say. And that’s not a bad thing, on it’s own, but I find my passion beginning to wane, my hope start to decay. Being honest is my way, but it hasn’t lead me through the pain.

To be honest is the first step and the start of good intentions, but it stays that way when that’s the only step I take; I’m walking in place. I’m facing my fears, then turning away, turning to shame, turning to pain, to my old ways.

Step two is find someone to help you through and I’ve found someone. good intentions brought me there, but business took me away. I take time for music, time for media, time to dress myself, time to work, and time to educate, but at the end of the day, end of the cycle, I still feel like I’m hardly alive. I’m pushing through, I’m telling the truth, and I know what to do. My pride will have me ignoring help, thinking I can’t look weak, especially to those I’m trying to let know that God brings life, but if I’m hiding my life, being honest, with a catchphrase on the side, making a change for a moment in time to take back the changes the moment I slide. If I’m living like that, I’m living a lie, and if no one else bought it, I bought it myself. I purchased fake comfort; see where it got me?

The part that gets me shaken up is I know I’ve lived in seasons of freedom. I know I’ve given up things I thought I needed. I know that Jesus is no less powerful when I don’t believe him, and is no less loving when I don’t receive it.

He doesn’t just want me to follow the steps, or fall in line. He hasn’t been forcing his agenda on mine so I give into his list of conditions.

His heart is for my heart to give up my pain, give up my worry, and give up my shame. His heart is for me to take up my cross, follow his lead and count the cost. His heart is for me to see that my habits, see that my hardships, anxiety and fear are much heavier then the cross we can choose to wear. The cross is no longer a mark of shame or surrounded by pain. It no longer caries the same kind of weight because of the cross that Jesus took on for me. He gave up his life to rebrand shame to forgiveness, and pain into healing, reducing it’s burden from heavy to light.

So why do I stay in this space, walking in place, one step forward and one step back, one step in faith and the next, relapse? The burden is light but it’s unfamiliar. It’s light, but it’s huge. What’s holding me back is my trust issue, because if my fears come true and it really does all fall on me, then I’m screwed. On the other hand, If he’s carrying all that weight, then I’m good. Any problem I might face I can face with him. He’s got my back and every other side an attack could come from.

when it comes to the spaces I’ve felt comfortable in, even if it’s filled with depression, I have to change my footsteps. I can’t step in the same places I have since been. I can see them from a mile away; I’ve worn a rut in and I know each mistake like I know my own skin. I know what will happen as soon as I give in. If it be lust, insecurity or depression or anything in-between, they’re all internally connected at my brain stem and never fail to pull me back if I let them take root in any place I am.

I must take the steps, and change my path; start to trust and not turn back. I’ve been honest and I’ll do it again, but only time will tell if this was all another good intention.

I’ve

Said

Before,

But

Pray

That

This

Time

Starts

The

Change.

To Someone *but not just anyone (Poem)

Oh future one, who you may be, I’m giving all I have to be the one that you would fall for. I share the things I’d rather let alone, the moments that I treasure, I post in plain view, hoping that who you may be would see southing in me; something you haven’t seen.

I find myself shooting shots to every screen, hoping that it would be a place my love hasn’t been, place that one would find my heart and treat it better then just another one. I don’t want this futile desperation, falsifying my character, overemphasizing my desires and heightening my anxiety with fear of rejection.

This is not who I am and not at all who I plan to be. My funk I’ve planted myself in will not be the place I stretch my roots in. I want to be at a place that God is all I need, with friends by my side. The family of God being unified, but in Christ, being satisfied. There’s still something about a life partner though. Something I long for, but something worth the lull, something worth fighting for.

I don’t want to settle for someone I don’t feel free with. Being tied down and walking on egg shells are thing I want to avoid like prison and bomb shells. I want to be able to be free without selling myself and advertising that I’m worth someones time. I want to be seen for me.

I want to be believed in. I want to be valued from one who’s willing to take me on; and it’s selfish in part, but I want to invest in someone and champion them for everything they are and everything they’ve done. I want to love. I want to hold hands and dance. I want to talk about the things we don’t understand. I want to stay up way too late, feeling drained, doing something mundane, but knowing who I’m doing it for is worth every second of the pain. I want to grow and be known, but more so, learn about someone from head to toe and toe to head and back again, because in each season we change and I don’t want to be ok with knowing who that someone was yesterday.

I don’t think my desires are too much of a fairy tail or a romantics dream, but if it is, I hope that someone is my dream come true.

An Undiscovered Diary (Poem)

I’m locked into this device.

I want to be free to write, like Ann Frank, like some of the people who didn’t think anyone would read what they had written in secrets.

I want to write like an undiscovered diary, that isn’t refined or worried about what other people would think, but raw, and in ink, and not typed like I’m doing.

For fear of judgement, or fear of misleading, I type on eggshells, because words shared on a webpage can be posted in a moment, and potentially cause effects that last a lifetime. There is no taking back a statement shot around the world in an instant.

There is reform in my writing, growth in my typing. Backspace hides my mistakes that would be otherwise scratched out; illegible behind scribbles, but their indents still present. If nothing else, the blotch is a reminder that their had been correction.

As I write for all to read, an open book, my life, my struggles and my everything. I share from poetry to concepts and grieving, there is still chance it will go unread. Maybe I didn’t write something as captivating as the one last week, or maybe it did not create enough posts in-between. There’s a possibility that what I write will change one life; bring them toward a more holistically human life. It’s changing. With each word, it feeds. With each writing, leaving something not yet seen. If that human was me, then it’s my publicly placed undiscovered diary.

A Princess Far Away: A Hopeful Valentines Day (Poem)

My heart lies in the hands of a princess far from home. It was not by her choice, nor does she know, so when she breaks my heart, it is not her fault. I forced her unknowing hands, slipped my heart into her pocket.

When she breaks my heart it’s not her fault, but it doesn’t stop the breaking. She’s gentle on my heart, because she’s gracious to all, but she knows not my heart is stuffed behind her lovers, beating out of sync, but both beating for hers. She did not know that I had placed mine there years before their love would start, but it’s not her fault. She had no idea that as she was taking hold of his, and giving hers away, she pushed my heart deeper into her pocket, under all the broken parts of her, and all the dreams and forgotten thoughts.

I try to send my love in gifts. If I can’t have her, may she have her dreams, and I can only dream that she will find my heart. That he will find someone or she will find some flaw. What a selfish wish for two so struck by love, two loving hearts, with their own scars.

May they float away in peace. May separation cause them space that their hearts might dream of a different way. May their dreams be swept by different waves and may my heart return to it’s broken cage, if it be by storm or by her embrace. Would it float back home, or from the princess’ arms with a piece of hers to cherish and hold. But if they wed, if their union bonds, would my heart be freed when she takes his name. Would I find the one of whom my heart aches. I do not know what tomorrow may bring, but if it’s not my heart, would it be peace within. I know my God holds the universe and beyond. He has my heart in mind. I might not know the reason why or the person I will find, but I do know she will be worth the wait, I just hope it’s the princess from far away.

Reality and it’s Elements (Poem)

Within the whimsicality of reality, we all say we’re doing fine, with the truth wrapped behind our eyes. It’s then, stowed deep inside the chest cavities until it rots into a lump, rolling deep inside the stomach, giving off fumes of insecurity and unresolved pain and even shame. When it vents through the mouth or seeps through the porous skin, it doesn’t often produce truth, the substance it once was, but it leads to anger, violence, depression or various vices and sins. It can also just build up and produce nothing but pressure, and silence.

Within the grind of reality, we find ourselves working through the week, forgetting what we’ve even done. Forgetting how we have even gotten where we are and where the years have gone. Where the passion for the art of our work is, and how it’s moved on. We want to work in a way work is like play and in some way, makes a change. Like we’re worth the space and working for more than just a pay check.

Within the the heartbeat of reality, we long for something. A finger cannot be placed on the longings destiny or what it is we want, but we want to be free; free from the hold of our current reality. We push through and hope for the best while knowing deep within our chest, that freedom is indeed within our grasp; That there is hope to be had.

Within the core of reality, we know that we must give up our grip on looking good on the outside to hold up our pride. We have to grasp onto something bigger than the skeletons we call our homes, and let go.

In the transparency of reality, we find freedom from the shame. We find freedom from the lie that no matter how dirty we are inside, we must appear clean as wool on the outside. For the discharge of infection may be messy, but it is necessary for the healing.

To make constant a reality, transparency is a must, although it only starts the thrust toward a life of peace and joy and freedom as a life long truth. It is a battle won in a war. It is not a guarantee, but it is a victory. Regardless of our sincerity, we must press on with vigor, suit up with the armor of God. Our enemy will not relent, we must not turn our back in ignorance, but stand sure in our position, and hold firm to our convictions.

In the fullness of reality, transparency must win, hope must spark, pride must fall, and determination must last.

We are not far removed from a full and true reality. We are only as free as we allow ourselves to be.

What Matters

LIFE: Thoughts, Inspiration, Poetry

Category: Poem