whining.

no one lets you yell around here.

no one says "it`s okay" to raise your voice &kick your legs &throw your face in to a pillow.
no one lets you cry because you are exhausted and overworked.
&it was finally starting to grow, to blossom a little white petal,
but you wouldn`t let it.
because every one else is tired too, right?
&that makes it so wrong?

because i don`t want to sing this song any more.

j.e.h.

you!
Now,
I do not claim to be an expert on this sort
of music, church, &art;
but you with your rolled &beat up jeans and cap, quietly climb the hill to that place where
on a morning unplanned &traded shirts debut,
we saw you, victorious, Book in hand, and it was good.
Oh, may I learn to listen and not be afraid of seventh generation solidarity in a house of wolves!
Oh! may all that come behind us find us faith-full!

48.

"Why should I wish to see God better than this day?
I see some thing of God each hour of the twenty-four, &each moment then,
In the faces of men &women I see God, and in my own face in the glass,
I find letters from God dropt in the street, &every one is sign`d by God`s name,
&I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe'er I go,
Others will punctually come for ever and ever." -Walt Whitman

on pitching &throwing

i think it is salubrious to fit &tantrum every once in a while.
there is more to do these days than seems human[e]ly possible,
so we throw our hands up in a flustered surrender
&grope for coloured paper, pencils, pillows...any thing really.
scattering them around, page by page, colour by colour-
until the whole floor is decorated in to a perfectly peacefull mess.

&then we go back to saving the world.

l.a.h.

for jane, for ever ago.

for old-fashioned television sets
salt water fish tanks,
&enough tableware to feed our humble army.
for sheep dogs,
brilliantly blue eyes
gentle voices &honest truths,
brand new ovens
&Jen's prints on every wall.
soy sauce and mushrooms,
apple tostada &tea.
&you.
you, all the while
breathing thanks with every syllable,
eyes that have seen so many things;
but you listen patiently, any way.

d.l.s.

there was some thing about you last evening,
it was just, just...
what was it again, exactly?
there has been some thing about you,
for these past years now, even.

i couldn`t help but think on you &me

then you, you were up there,
unrecognizable, dressed in things you do not wear
but i could still read you,
like the oldest of stories,
&my favourite ticking clock of a book.

you flew back down to meet me, [you all ways do, you know]
smiling and thanking me for thinking of you

oh! the beauty &wisdom that seeps out of your weathered, faith full soul!
&my heart
like a forlorn wanderer,
that has stumbled upon such a peregrine oasis!

93108

I hear a train moaning in the distance, &I woke up this morning in a sweat, peeled off my soaking tee, &lay quietly under covers too heavy for this weather. "Must`ve sweated out that fever," I thought to myself.
I don`t get sick often. Or at least I don`t admit it when I am.
But today. Today, I am sick. I am easily whelmed over &take every comment personally. I curl up inside of myself and listen to Bon Iver`s For Emma, For Ever Ago. I pretend that I am grown up &will live in an apartment somewhere, and maybe work two jobs, &share meals with a roommate or two. I think that college doesn`t prepare me for what`s next as well as they say it does. I`m finding the beginning of wisdom starts by loving others. I don`t know if it`s worth it quite yet. I`d like to think so. I really would.
"I`m not a fan of danger," she says.
There will be more than just falling a sleep this time.

a messy, full life: part 1.

January, 1979. [May, 1987.]
Saw a terrible crash and I couldn`t help but laugh,
As my ear pressed against the past like a glass on a wall of a house in a photograph.
My forehead no longer sweet with holy kisses worthy of Your fiery lips.
I was floating in a peaceful sea "rescued" by a sinking ship.

If I could become the servant of all, no lower place to fall. [If could be your servant]
If I could become the servant of all, no lower place to fall. [If I could be your servant]
If I could become the servant of all, no lower place to fall. [If could be your servant]
If I could become the servant of all, no lower place to fall. [If I could be your servant]

You watch me like a ten car highway wreck with detached, vulgar curiosity.
This looking down at the tops of the hats of us passers-by from your seventh floor balcony.
From such a height you missed creatures too small for sight carry on covert conversations.
And the misguided insects crown me their grasshopper king with a dance of celebration.

After years with a crown on my head, I`ve grown overfed, unconcerned, &comfortably numb.
Kept busy indulging in the pleasures of the wealthy.
[Someone make me afraid of what I`ve become!]
At the first sign of possible sorrow, I turned my heels &ran.
[Oh, I`ll never learn.]
My life is a cup of sugar I`ve borrowed before time began &forgot to return.

It was a matter of time--I always said I could see so now I`m going blind. [I could be your servant]
It was a matter of time--I always said I could see so now I`m going blind. [If I could be your servant]
It was a matter of time--I always said I could see so now I`m going blind. [I could be your servant]
It was a matter of miserable time-- but I heard somewhere there was a cure for useless eyes? [If I could be your servant]

kindness

I went to the zoo today. I found myself wanting to push small, bilingual children on swings, &spectate an afternoon-long soccer game. I found myself soaking strips of paper in paste, &expertly layering them over chicken wire. I found myself enjoying an opossum: for the first time in however long I have been alive. They only live up to four years, you know.
Tonight is good for being quiet, &studying stewardly, &living hopefully.

love must be sincere.

what a pleasant week I have had. God is faithful! College is such a diverse place for me to reflect His love back on others. Today, my heart is at peace. with everything
it`s only 10:18 in the evening, but i am sleepy.
it is friday, and i have been a good steward of it. i truly believe that Jesus smiles on us as we drift off to sleep.
let your gentleness be evident to all, dear ones. pursue Him relentlessly, with every fiber of your being.
breathe in and be still