My Dreams Haunt Me

i awoke crying & speaking
"oh God"

i'd had a warring dream
the details are not important here
but within this dream - human on human horror
and there were children
helpless children
at the end of this dream
i was holding a little boy
hugging my face
"tank you" came from his mouth
i held him close and began crying
crying for the pain of the place
crying out
"oh God, oh God, help us"

i awoke and thought
through my tears
how far are we away from that human on human horror
where children are...

dear God, it's me - again

A Better Way to Speak My Heart

this evening i had the unfortunate experience of speaking from an emotional place of historical pain
it let me know that i still have personal pain over the way i'm still treated because of the color of my skin
it's unfortunate that the racial divide of our nation's been minimized to the comfortable definition of 'capitalism'

dear God;
how do i let you live through me when i keep getting in the way?

The Work of My Hands

Is leaked into my eyes
when I am blinking myself awake.
A list of divine
tasks,
some as simple as washing a dish
an application mailed in
an assignment explained,
a phone call, encouragement
for the weary,
a meal served,
hands washed
and words written down,
pictures taken,
hope reigned in,
and just like that, just like that,
the sun is already setting.
My magic tucked in around me
underneath the home-made quilt
keeping me warm,
my hands numb,
my eyes,
my eyes closed.

I've Got A Question For You...

i recently asked a friend the following question: imagine you're in a pitch dark somewhere. you don't know yet where you are because you can't see anything, but you can hear and feel something. and then it begins to dawn on you: you're in water because you can feel its cold wetness and you can hear it swishing around your hands, arms, and legs. on the heels of this realization comes an ominous dread: because your feet and arms aren't coming into contact with anything other than water, you could be in the middle of the vast ocean with thousands of miles between you and dry ground. you shout out "help! anybody there? help me! i can't stay afloat much longer!" there is no reply. not even an echo of your own voice. you begin to swim madly in all directions. who knows? maybe you're simply treading water in a large pool... or maybe a sandy shore is just a stroke away...dread turns into abject fear. you begin to thrash about reaching for something, anything to keep you from going below the surface—below the surface: your body shudders involuntarily in response to the unnerving thought. the theme from jaws "duh—dumps" in your frantic brain. needlelike pain begins to shoot through your arms and legs as lactic acid brickifies every sinew in your extremities. suddenly, just before you sink helplessly below the liquid darkness, you grasp something. without thinking you wrap your arms around it and hang on for dear life. ok, now comes the question: what's that thing you find yourself clinging to?

i won't tell you what my friend said but i will tell you this: the first adam, when he found himself treading water in the darkness of the fall, held onto himself and an inadequate leaf-shaped flotation device, and we, his progeny, have been following in his footsteps (wake?) ever since. the final Adam, on the other hand, when he found himself in an even hairier and darker situation, against his feelings, against all that his senses screamed at him, entrusted His Spirit into the hands of the Unseen, Unheard, Unfelt One. there's been only one who's been there and done that, and so he alone is uniquely qualified to take us on the journey from darkness into light.

No Rest for the Weary

weary |ˈwi(ə)rē|
adjective ( wearier , weariest )
feeling or showing tiredness, esp. as a result of excessive exertion or lack of sleep

tiring, exhausting, wearying, fatiguing, enervating, draining, sapping, wearing, trying, demanding, taxing, arduous, grueling, difficult, hard, tough

Dear God, It me - again;
How do I get myself trapped within spaces, within walls, that try to define me and I still don't know the full understanding of who I am? How?
I want people to like me, chose me, love me (a person-pleasing spirit) and that is not healthy. It sits low within me and comes out when I least expect; don't like it at all.
I know it because my inner voice speaks "careful...careful", but my mouth engages and a lie speaks.
"I'm well, thank you."
"It's good to see you." (accompanied by the back patting hug)

And within my mental landscape I war with myself another day questioning whether I am loved for just me and not what someone can get out of me or without me giving away my soul.

There's so much to tell and so much to write; but then I'd have to bring things I don't want to remember forward.

Dear God, thanks for listening.

Pieces of other People

I carry pieces of other people around. I have treasured you in my heart, or saved a note or card or trinket or I have written words from your mouth on scraps of paper-receipts, church programs, business cards. These might be some of those words:

Warriors Know


What is Peace between God and Man?

The time is at hand--
through the blizzard of troubles
we wrap our injured flesh around You.

Warriors know zeal is not circumstantial.
What keeps you captive?
A multitude of unknowns?

The answer lies in what you are wanting. In the starving.

Provide the sacrifice-whole. Shalom.
Overwhelm the temple of today.

Musings

I stood at my stove eating sea salted potato chips, the fat kind, and tearing pieces of cold chicken from the bone, one chip at a time in my left hand and one tear of chicken breast with my left hand. I kept eating, just kept eating; thinking "I should stop eating these chips, the salt's not good for me, it makes me blow fish puffy". But I kept eating; crunching loudly, my ears hurt. Within this me swirl, I recognized the sadness wasn't going away. I stopped eating.

There's lots going on within me, around me, and food is my hiding place (except for lima beans, they look like little fetuses). I keep thinking it will all get better--soon. It doesn't get better and I'm not going to be beamed up to the star ship Enterprise (my view of biblical rapture) in the near future. Life doesn't get better when it hurts. Food comes as close to a magic wand and no magic wand poofs the bad out of existence. Ans so I fight the desire to eat and eat and eat some more.