Welcome home, soul

Where have I been, these years, these years

Where have I been these nights?

In what kind of hovel have I been hiding

Afraid of what courage, which light?

I’m tired and empty of what the world has

Over the conquests of fools and men

Every heart in this world, it seems

Is gaunt, irrelevant, and has been

Filled up by the sloppiest, patched up with paltry

Seasoned with promises reeling with poetry,

Stricken with senselessness, sickened with hurry

These hearts do not wait upon or at all.

I am weary of restless, nauseous of breathless

Seeking the foundation you bring.

I left for a time- and forgive me, I lied-

To my own starving heart of my means.

But I’ve reconciled here, and I’ve realized now

My future is elsewhere, it waits in the power

Of the Lion of Glory and Might.

My silence is sacred, but my praise is outrageous

And I will scream to the Heavens

That the shadows must now

contend with the Light.

stuck

There is a tension in waiting

for a blow that never comes;

Your body, crumbled to posturing

perched upon your splintered throne.

 

There are eyes tired of searching,

yet unable to close for rest;

There are lungs squeezed shallow from filtering

the quietest possible breaths.

 

There is loss multiplied by loss

in the fight to never be knocked down again;

There are waves that will never drown you, yet

you cannot ever risk submerging for a swim.

 

There is knowledge of inky black

which no one can pretend not to see;

There are stains of morbid red

where your heart rips open (every other beat.)

 

There is an exquisite agony

in never feeling home;

It does damage, it curries questions

that should never be asked.

 

You cannot learn to thrive and love

when your alertness

your caution

your awareness

when your panic will never relax

water-walking

I wander through unknowns, shivering valleys and deeper lows

My dreams reflect the darkness new- but somehow light is shimmering too

I find myself awash in breath, a consolation in the land of death…

What waits beyond I do not know. A lonely hall dipping dark and low. I will not find what I expect-

But the Lion of Judah, prowling ahead.

gap

Sometimes the greatest poetry…

Rage, silent storm;

Is the absence of any.

The quiet, heavy ladled

Only over the story..

Power un-endowed.

You would tell, but refuse.

Respect me, or I will blow your memory like dust into the wind.

You do not deserve any acknowledgment from my breath.

Kiss

your existence sparks my heart

i ache for your embrace, the way we slid into nothingness

silence except for my shivering, the cold biting through my coat

you leaned over, speaking

asking

then you stopped talking and i stopped listening,

you were curled over me, then you pulled me onto you as we breathed and i followed your lead, my fingers curved onto your chest, the memory eludes me, hazy at best

i remember your lips

and your teeth, and your breath

i wish i could feel it again and again

but memories will have to do until we are both

healed and ready

for this.