Tuesday, July 28, 2015


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


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?

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.