A Match in the Dark


A match is struck against the coarse side of the box
Three plumes alight like down on a wintry mountainside.

They dance gingerly round their frail wooden host,
Thrilling but scaring the dark they kept for company.

The boundary between light and dark tango silently with the rhythm,
All in tandem with an unheard song:

They dance, but they don’t know why.



I will cherish today.
Where hordes of hurtful yesterdays
Seek to allay the victories I achieved.
Strategically deceive and say that today is not 
I will love today.
I will keep at bay the spurs  of negativity
Leading me astray to the trenches of doubt they weave
webs in which many fall
I will value today.
For in it I am blessed beyond measure
with humble blessings and daily treasures
another opportunity to give thanks and
I will be content today.
Mindful of future goals and plans
I desire to reach but I’ll stand
content and work steadily towards them
I refuse to let past pains and future worries  get in the way
of loving and cherishing myself today.

Contemplation by the Mountainside

Maybe I’m the one that misses you.
Maybe in my world,
The dust that settled on this barren rock
Shifted just a little.
Maybe there’s little murmurs under the surface,
Little flutters and gentle twitches alight on still grass.
Maybe there’s magma bubbling up,
As plates shift and drift apart,
Lava lifting to the surface.
Just maybe
There’s love.

I was not prepared for this

Standing here assaulted by these feelings
Wondering if to press charges or not
I’m indictable, and my battery’s low.
I’m running out of juice, and I’m thirsty,
Hands holding this cup to my lips,
Trembling as I question if I should drink it
Or just pour it out as an offering
I’m full of holes and deplorable
And yet Christ calls me holy;
It’ll probably just fall out anyway.
I see it clear as day,
The reality that lies before me
Uncertain but yet so poignantly loud it’s pungent.
I turn my nose up and look away
Because it’s beautifully atrocious
I keep it in my periphery but look to God alone…
I was not prepared for this.


My dystopia unravels before my eyes,
disintegrating world ties into dust and what I held dear with it.
If you could hear it, you’d hear drills excavating the substrate of my fear,
Catalysts to react in no other way
But trust in God alone.
In the midst are very real gems that stem from
Relationships built up before;
Constantly imploring me to be the best;
Yet locked in my chest is a dragon,
Locket abreast with insecurity that bellows
To purge them all in the same flame;
They’ll all be gone tomorrow, right?
As sandstorms rage, exfoliating security in sandy hurricanes,
I’ve been left bare as grains fade away,
Precious stones and cobble alike
Sifting between unsure fingers,
Undecided if to clench or not.
But it’s all fading away,
And I’ve rescinded all control.
My dystopia unravels before my eyes,
disintegrating world ties into dust and what I held dear with it.
If you could hear it, what would you do?



Eyes shudder behind calculated frames.
Stutter as shutters applaud and bring you into focus,
Liquid flooding across to wash my vision clean;
Retreating back to ducts where in safety those tears may lie.
I see you.
My astigmatism not letting me focus too much but yet looking to
The future.
Where I
Digress. Closer to hand are plans and schemes that capture my attention
Slipping between photographs and slideshows to memories I prefer to keep inside my head.
Curiously entwined in pockets of time and places, purpose and beautiful  design
Beauty has been held within these eyes of mine
To flutter, and to escape; released to a reprieve where time and place plan to dance again; their stage a coincidence.  These rays incident on longing eyes and hopeful hearts
Clinging to thoughts that have yet to burst into reality.

I hope to see you again.

Note to Self

Rancid as the raunchy ruses of your adolescent mind

You retracted to remote locations

Ravishing your love on foreign gods.

Ferric the blood rushing to your nostrils,

It drips red and rusty; marring your innocence;

Guilt like a raging bull at the sight.

Musty from the sweat of resistance you lie,

Too strong to repel your pride,

Too weak to resist your struggle.

It’s okay to risk second glances to from varnished floors,

Rather than resorting to fresh pine wood.

Rummaging through your trash only restricts you,

Restraining you from the truth;

Learn that you are loved.

Let His love lavish you in lavender,

Relinquishing the reminiscent stains of the past.

He’ll leverage your loneliness with forces centripetal

Launching you to lovely  fields,

Labelling you fearfully and wonderfully made.

Love yourself, inhale the bouquet of your radiance,

And shine for others to see.



Life proposes pauses;

A distinct monotone

Of mundane and muddled melodies

Missing the distinct, sharp punctuation of the things

You hope for or despise.

A palpable discourse of respite:

Most times, needed but not wanted.

You wait

A lot


Life itself at times.

Nights staring into nothing when silence catches on

Because the hustle of the day is done.

Running on fumes, no longer able

To overcome the inertia of your own stubbornness

You listen to the Voices

That have been speaking ever since.

Slow down.


My Grace is sufficient for you.