Thursday, August 30, 2012


it lines my lungs
the flavor to every breath
then becomes the voice
to the blood in my veins

water is all i see
deserts stretched out before me
on the journey of many lanes

a shrug unshakable
can't shake the sense of loss
i try to pour it out
scrub away the stubborn stains

undo the stiches
i'm unweaving the selfishly woven
uprooting, remolding
to free the weight it contains

it's pieces become scattered
no longer half as much a whole
swallowed beneath the surface
of time that slowly wains

dissolved, never solved
lingering on a hint of a smile
dust it's become, as dust it begun
only a smudge yet remains

Friday, August 24, 2012


we shun Your aid
being more afraid
of losing our grip

we must extract
instead we compact
the fear of letting go

we hug our thorns close
drink the daily dose
of our frantic, wayward thoughts

they become dear
something we love and fear
a comfortable numbness settles in

we're self-persuaded
but have grown frustrated
that we can't resist on our own

it is taxing
our spirit ne'er relaxing
and it begins to show

we choose to bleed
rather than submit to need
of aid from a Greater Power

we blind our eyes
to the gold in disguise
senseless to the sweetness grown sour

we've contemplated
and long awaited
the bursting of seams

"it'll be easier on the marrow"
but we have no time to borrow
the weight clings to our skin

we leave it 'until later'
but the wound grows still greater
we must lay it down

if we delay
we leave a gateway
for more thorns to take root

we yearn to be free
so when will we flee
this shade avoiding Your Light?

Thursday, August 23, 2012


as addict of backpacking (making no attempt at recovery), switchbacks are a reminder that this 'leisure' activity is not always so leisurely.  final grunts up to mountain passes can be gruling, disheartening, and often make me question "when did I think this sport was fun?"  i can't help seeing the life metaphor in the way ithink about and face physical switchbacks: 

often life takes down all the way from a peak of our existence to the depths of a valley floor.  eventually, with God's help, we begin a slow, steady climb back to a higher place once again. although, we might be down in that valley a good long while.  sometimes under a heavy blanket of fog, so thick that we begin to wonder if there is even anything beyond the all consuming grey. 

eventually, we can see our goal, the pass, quite clearly, and we long to sprint straight upwards towards is right there! nearly within our grasp!  but, such a trajectory is unwise, unsafe, made treacherous by the temptation of speed over terrain overgrown with plants, unstable with gravel and rocks.  so, God gently enforces a slowness to our progress, causing us to lean on Him more for stamina.  we journey up on switchbacks instead, each turn we think "at last! lesson learned! now i can reach the top..." only to be met with another switchback.  we can grow frustrated with our slow progress or even angry that God enforces a slower pace, but then, almost without even expecting it, we arrive.  from one side of the pass we see all we've traveled through, suffered through?, to reach our goal and on the other you see the beauty we have yet to journey through.  and that sight is so marvelously beautiful that we forget all the pain of the climb, or at least see it as not half as bad as that view is good. in fact, we realize that the awe of that perspective would not be what it is, not worth all it is, if you hadn't switchbacked up to it, through painful slowness.