Bumblebee

Yellow and black and worn back then
I burned you a bit on accident
You made a noise when I shook you round
And your felt antennae were always droopy.

You were a gift that I had got
And now I could not even say
Where you’ve gone just like the ghost
Who gave me life and gave me you.

Memories are hard to hold
but some are hard to lose
I wish that you were still with me
That I might just remember.

A Burning In My Bones

I suffer under the burden of my own introspection
The weight of which is like unto lead
Or perhaps in Egypt I carry bricks
With every thought I have.
I have been hard on myself when I should have been soft
And soft when I should have been hard.
And the feeling of failure that snatches my joy
Is another brick thrown on my back.
“Have mercy on me!”
I cry in the evening
“Sustain me…”
I whisper each morn.
There has been a cleaning,
a beating,
a molding,
a forming,
it is a fire that burns me
my mistakes burn like fire
each success is a flame.
And everywhere I am consumed.

“The weight of which,”
I collapse.
Do not delay
Long expected king.

I have been to market and to church
and in the coffee house I have discussed
all of knowledge that I knew
and then I took a sip.

There is a burning.

At the concert hall I sat down
And listened to the works of man
and all I heard was God’s own voice
in every perfect note.

There is a fire.

If I sing in our church choir
will I feel the hand of God?
Or am I filled with fool’s desire
to trip and fall again.

Let me be so consumed.

To See in Darkness as the Day

And yet this life with agèd sight
Once ringed in glory climbed so high
Sits now in darkness as the night
And all its wisdom is a sigh.

The view of age that should be clear
Became obscured by hapless act
And now the night is fast upon
And so the soul upon the rack.

And yet a light still now exists
That may yet break upon the shore
And grant raw visions in this night
That lead to life forevermore.