Tuesday, July 28, 2015

scalded

my scalded tongue
was burnt by words
held back by sealed lips.
they scratched to get out,
struggled in a silent shout
and in their death
continue to haunt
the hallow space
behind my retinas.
they painted a scar,
an imprinted impression:
blindingly bright
like a chanced glance
at the sun.
not quite seen
but not quite forgot.

i kept those words
clutched to my breast
like fledglings
i wasn't ready to let
leave the nest.
they were too delicate.
they were too uncertain.
i was afraid they might
fly wayward.
i was afraid they weren't quite
ready to meet the real world.
but, truthfully, they were ready
and it was just i
that was not.

these words
are ghosts with wings:
transparent, but
not quite invisible things.
and their chorus of fluttering
rings in my ears.
it is a symphony
of remindings
that my absent courage
was perhaps
the withholding of a gift.
their flutterings
are calling to me
to be more dauntless.

in my most honest imaginings
these words would have been
as autumn leaves:
brilliant but dying,
given to the wind
given to the forest floor,
offered up to
the Creator once more.



Saturday, July 25, 2015

organ

i have an organ
that is missing.
but it is one
that i do not seem
to miss.

i do not search
in any lost & found
it hopes i might recover it.
it do not wish it
to be hidden underneath
to be laying dormant
like wisdom teeth.

and, so, i am quieting
the war between
"when" & "if" inside of me
that takes place in the space
this organ would normally be.

because maybe it is a gift instead
and as with a missing sense
our other organs
feel more strongly
when one is absent?

because:
my mind thinks to much
and my heart feels too much
and my spirit observes too much
and this too much
is so much
of what defines me as me.
so i am hoping that what i now see
might just possibly be
some God-given clarity.

i have an organ that is missing
it is not atrophy
it is not personal entropy
it is my window
of opportunity
to better make use
of my own wiring.