In the Hands of Another

But sometimes
When you just do not want to write
or say anything at all
sometimes then is when the words come to you.

But with no response
Comes a requirement
for great faith.

A Speaker

Naught comes from Naught
Until the voice is heard
By the shattered silence.

Blessed Be

Sometimes it seems
In all the swirling light
With pedals and scents of roses
Somehow we miss delight.

Somehow it goes
That in the work so pure
With all the progress made
Our hearts are still not sure.

Somehow I dream
Despite the aching pain
And all the death that falls around
My heart returns again.

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… and for Others

In the bar I heard a laugh
Thank you all for all things pink
Let me love as I have been
And this for me as well.

And Who Will Be There?

There will come a day
And I think sometimes we can feel it
Where we will fall apart.

Craving Safety, Or the Danger of Growth

Sometimes things are stopped
And you feel that the massive build-up of water behind the dam
Will crush you
But you also worry
That if the dam breaks,
Everything will be ruined.

We fear a loss of control
One we do not really have to begin with
And we long for love
And peace
and purpose
and even happiness,
if possible.

Take a brick out of your pack
and give it away
I would tell you to give it to God
But you would rightly point out
That I often do not do this so well myself
And of course
Some of you
Think Him a fiction anyways.

Yet there are things
Things stopping the right flow of us
And we need healing
And maybe that means
We need
to fall apart
and let it all out,

if only we felt safe to do so.

In Certain Moments

Sometimes,
When your body seems to fail
And the pain is more than just emotional
Sometimes then
You remember to pray,
for someone other than yourself.

In Faith

I want to find a way
And I want to trust today
I may not feel OK
But I want to find a way.

I want to feel a start
And in the waking hour
I want to sing my praise
And feel the Spirit’s power.

The hot sun wakes me
And I feel the touch of God
Let it rain down now.

The Ingratitude of My Own Soul

You speak of freedom as if you know
What it costs in any realm
The price is high and mostly death
That lets you sit at your own helm.