probably the wrong “somewhere”

slow-building, mundane pressures
push me into a mold I don’t like.
voices, high and low,
talk me into a corner I didn’t choose.
God’s tireless chisel
crumbles me into a shape I don’t understand.
my desires fracture
and fly out from me in all directions.
the path winds, and wanders,
and fades into the blank horizon.
my strength continues to burn.
it burns right through me–
and leaves a charred, crackling hole.
my feet continue on, purposeless,
with a blind, stubborn perseverance.
how long?
yet I move along,
tired eyes on top of clumsy feet.
I’ll get where I’m going.
I’ll get somewhere, anyway.


one more chance

i cannot change the world,
i cannot heal it,
i cannot even fathom it.
i am glad
that i cannot understand.
if i could, i imagine
i would only
cradle my head in my hands.
i thank you God
for my light yoke,
for my small piece
of the puzzle.
i am sorry
for my anger,
my paralysis,
for the blank stare,
for the heart-numbness.
i thank You for Your patience
and Your grace,
and most of all
i thank You for today,
for one more day,
one more chance
to figure it out.


in the blackness
all I have is Your hand
so don’t pat me on the head
and tell me it will all be all right
don’t shrink my head
and tell me to try harder
don’t tell me I’m not enough
don’t tell me I’m just fine
tell me the truth
take me away
lead me to the heart of the matter
tell me who I am
show me Who You are
hack apart the root of my sickness
let me out of this cage
take me somewhere open
help me to breathe
give me back my voice
set me in a safe place
save me
lead me out
hold onto me
don’t let me fade away
please speak to me
because in the blackness
all I have is Your hand


I remember as a child the afternoon sky growing dark as twilight
beneath the shadow of summer thunderheads,
and dashing out to play in fields
of tall yellow grass and crackling bracken.
breathing air thick with the smell of storm,
drinking wind that fretted the wilted heads of wild flowers,
I and the whole earth with me seemed to sigh
with the expectation of rain.
now that I am older, I hear You calling me
to walk again the open, windy places,
to step out of safety and into the storm,
and find that I am not made out of sugar and salt.
I am not some chill, frightened thing
to hide in a hole from the beauty and violence
of whatever Your hand lets fall.
no, I am like the trees that sway and dance under the tempest,
I am the drought-thirsty earth hungry for water,
I am a violet stretching upward to catch each drop and draw it in—
I am Yours, and I am not afraid.

simplify me, please

simplify me, please.
my heart is a rope knotted and tied tight,
my strength is a pit bull frothing on a choke chain,
my mind is a heavy, ticking machine of unfathomable purpose.
simplify me, please.
gather up these scattered shreds of me and set them alight,
turn them to smoke in the gentle breeze of Your grace,
waft them up into far places I don’t care to ever find.
let me be some still, small thing
at rest in Your presence,
at peace,
and simple.

in Your eyes

who was I in Your eyes
before I ever took a breath?
what was my first blue print,
first draft, first sketch?
is my loose-tied frame
still hung on Your intention?
or has my heart fallen deep
into a cage of my invention?
am I to fly arrow-true
the desired path of Your sight?
or am I a little sparrow
free to take my own flight?
am I a rat to You, that I
should stumble blindly in a maze?
or am I Your chosen champion
to run my race, and shout Your praise?
who was I in Your eyes
before we ever met?
and whom have I become
that You should think of me yet?