Category: Writing

Better

If I was a better photographer
I’d be able to let my pictures
Stand up alone, and speak for themselves.

But instead I’m a slave to the
Dictionary. Always searching for the
Right words to string together.

Sometimes rambling when I should
Just be silent. Other times staying silent
When I should say something, anything,

That could fix it all.
Or at least make it better.

If I was a better writer,
I’d be able to write poems and stories,
That would mean something to someone,

Anyone, without a picture to hold their
Attention. But the camera never leaves my
Hand. And the picture sometimes comes first,

Before the words ever find their way
Out of my heart and onto the blank,
And often, intimidating, page-

As it waits for the one rhyme, or line,
That creates someone’s idea of the perfect

happy ending.

Someone Like Me

Someone like me—
deals with anxiety.
Caring too much for
what doesn’t matter.
And not enough for
what truly does.

Someone like me—
falls short over and over.
Never enough, never
brave, never perfect.
Failing, flailing,
hurting myself, and others.

Someone like me—
stutters and stumbles.
Struggling with the same
things, every single time.
Wondering if there will ever
be change. Or hope.

Someone like me—
is never understood by
those who surround me.
My thoughts, my dreams,
never match theirs,
dividing my heart in half.

Someone like me—
is unworthy, alone to
face the giants and fears.
Trembling, shaking, shattering,
instead of taking hold of the
stones in my hand.

Someone like me—
is hopeless, a lost cause.
Getting left behind in this life.
Deserving nothing but darkness,
shame, and guilt. The
results of my stupidity.

But Someone like Him—
Redefined my future, redefined
every lie I believe about
myself. With one display
of incomprehensible love—
His death on the cross.

Someone like Him,
has plans for me,
using my failures, my falls,
my anxiety— to create a
masterpiece I can’t see.
Or even start to understand.

Someone like Him,
loves even the most unlovable
pieces of my heart and soul.
Tearing down the walls,
the barrier of sin and hell,
so I can have a forever with Him.

Someone like Him,
With unending mercy and
relentless love, takes my
unworthiness, my guilt, my shame,
and all of the other lies I hold,
and breathes truth into my darkness—

Reaching me with unshakable kindness.
Holding me with unchanging patience.
Freeing me with unfailing grace.

And loving me, when no one should.

Place

Out of place?
Or right where she
Was always meant
To be?

Growing in a place,
In circumstances,
Against all odds.
With so few chances

To change,
Or blossom.

Stuck in the grasp
Of a pattern,
Of repeated mistakes,
Drowning in defeat.

Choked by the hold
Of her keeper,
With no freedom to
Move or breathe,

To live,
Or dream.

But He steps in,
With gentle fingers,
Lifting her up beyond
The grasp of uncertainty.

He heals the pain
And gives her peace,
A Love that never fails,
With infinite chances

To change,
And blossom.
To live,
And dream.

To be saved.
To be redeemed.
To believe.

Even when it seems
impossible, when her story
Seems too broken, too
Empty, too useless,

He makes a way,
Taking the broken pieces and
Turning them into something
Beautiful. Something hopeful.

Something meaningful.

Out of place?
Or right where she
Was always meant
To be?

In this place, in
This exact spot, situation-
Something, somewhere, only
He can use perfectly.

Old Friend

My oldest friend
Has never said a word to me,
But he’s the best speaker I know,
Once you’ve learned how to listen.

He’s heard every dream and heartache,
And caught every tear,
As it slid from my cheek and clung
To his coat, waiting to be absorbed.

He’s taught me more about dealing
With and living through pain,
Than anyone else could. Always
Making a lesson out of what he’s endured.

His heart is genuine, he holds no grudges.
Forgiving even those who cut him deep.
His soft muzzle nuzzling their palm,
Warm air blowing through their fingers.

He thinks he’s king, holding the herd in check.
Keeping an eye out for threats that exist,
And, for those that don’t.
But you can never be too safe.

He still runs and plays like a carefree colt,
Even though his muscles and joints tell the truth
Of the years that are catching up to him.
More days behind him than before.

Our time is shortened by each sunset,
Each passing season and star.
But for now, I’ll cling to his mane.
And listen to every word still unspoken,

Throwing in a few thoughts of my own,
Thanking him for everything he’s given.
Thanking him for everything he is and has been.

Thanking him
for all he was.

The only mane I can cling to now,
Is the small piece that I kept.
It smells like him, feels like him,
And listens to my heart break.

The sun sets and fades over the mountain,
Casting shadows over a fresh pile of dirt,
Tears now soak the ground, not his coat,
And time can’t be reversed.

But his soul will live on,
Even if his body can’t,
In the memories I cling to,
And always, always, in my heart.

Believe

Your tears slide in silence,
Screaming for the words
Unsaid,
Streaming down a path
Unknown,
Struggling through what’s
Unseen.

You hide behind a mask,
Waiting for Someone to
See,
Hoping for Someone to
Search,
Longing for Someone to
Save—

To look through the
Unsaid, the unknown,
The unseen.
To love beyond what is
Seen, or what is found,
Or what is unworthy.

Please, believe me,
When I say,
There is a Love this sweet,
There is a Hope this pure,
There is a Salvation this free.

Nail pierced Hands,
A thorn cut Brow,
A Love that knows no bounds.

A Love that sees,
A Love that knows,
A Love that still loves,
Unconditionally.

You just need to,
Simply,
Believe.

What Can Change in a Week?

Day one-ceremony
-their hero, in their midst,
chose not to ride a stallion,
but a donkey, a foal-
a sign of peace.
What can change in a week?

Day one-continued
-the King, riding a colt,
a fulfillment of prophecy.
clothes and palms spread before Him,
as they anticipated victory.
crying Hosanna, they worshipped,
but the pharisees grumbled, angrily.
What can change in a week?

Day two-comparison
-a fig tree, and a temple,
producing no fruit at all.
He cursed it, telling his disciples-
faith is more than outward acts.
What can change in a week?

Day two-cleansing
-His house of prayer
turned into a den of thieves.
He overturned the tables,
clearing everyone out.
What can change in a week?

Day three-confrontation
-His authority questioned,
as He healed, as He taught.
the leaders tried to seize Him,
but feared what the people thought.
What can change in a week?

Day three-conspiracy
-betrayed by one of the twelve.
He was delivered into the hands of hatred.
for thirty pieces of silver, Judas
set the price of the Savior.
What can change in a week?

Day five-celebration
-of the Passover feast.
the blood of the blemish free lamb
over each family’s door,
saved them from death, from grief.
What can change in a week?

Day five-communion
-He shared the bread and the wine.
His body, His blood, became a sacrifice,
forever taking the place of the lamb,
after betrayal, by a friend’s kiss.
What can change in a week?

Day six-condemnation
-He stood silently, enduring the shame
of false accusations, physical beatings,
listening as the praise changed to outrage,
as Hosanna turned to crucify.
What can change in a week?

Day six-completion
He breathed His last, tearing the veil,
and asked for forgiveness, for them-
the very ones who had Him killed.
He submitted His Spirit to the plan.
What can change in a week?

Day seven-darkness.
The Savior was dead,
lying in the stone-cold tomb.
What can change in a week?

Day eight-light
The women found the tomb empty.
the stone was rolled away, the linens folded.
The Savior was no longer dead- He lived!
Defeating Satan, hell, the power of sin.
What can change in a week?

The Son of God, the Son of Man,
lived the life we never could-
and died the death that was ours,
so we could have freedom, and experience grace-
something we could never earn.

In a week, He was worshipped,
then tried, tortured, and killed,
to break the curse, to be our sacrifice,
all for our sins, our sakes, our futures,
All because of love. 

I ask again, one last time,
What can change in a week?


Hummingbird

Oh sweet little
Hummingbird,
I can feel your heart
Beating so fast.

Please, slow down.
Take a breath.
Remember it’s okay
Not to rush.

It’s okay to just
Be still.
That’s the safer option,
The easier one.

Get your drink,
Let your wings settle,
Even if just for one
Moment, one beat.

Oh sweet little
Hummingbird,
I can feel your heart
Beating so fast.

You’ll be okay.
Just find a place,
A way,
To rest.

Remind Me

When I’m lost and my feet can’t feel the ground beneath me,
When I’m broken and can’t remember what it means to be whole,
When I’m tired and peace can’t seem to reach me,
Remind me what it means to be Yours.

When rocks are thrown and leave bruises,
When heartache and suffering won’t release their hold,
When grief and pain overwhelm me,
Remind me what it means to be Yours.

When storm clouds come and cover the sunshine,
When heaven and life with You seem forever away,
When I can’t understand the hurt of this world,
Remind me what it means to be Yours.

To be Yours is to always know I’m loved. 
To be Yours is to know there is a Plan.
To be Yours is to find comfort in the hard times,
And to remember You hold me in Your hands.

You see Your plan and know what will happen,
And when I constantly question and wonder why,
You’re perfectly patient, You don’t get mad.
You see a precious life that just doesn’t understand.

You’re working to build Your chosen instrument,
Selecting the materials to get the fit just right,
To be Yours is to want your will above all else,
To trust you completely with every aspect of life.

Mirror

Reflections-
Are lies,
Are real,
In the same breath,
At the same time.

Glass mirrors-
Show us
What is
Seen by the world,
When we can’t look.

Clear water
Holds still,
Stays cool,
Until the wind,
Until the rain.

Reflections
Show us-
Us.
But what we see
Is only half the story.

The other half is
In pieces.

What others see.
What’s inside.
And finally-

-the Truth.