grieve

I would do it;

but the finality of it all

stands in the way;

the uncertainty;

the hesitation;

sometimes I think,

this is the way it should be,

all the time;

beyond feeling,

beyond caring,

beyond knowing,

beyond rewrites and

perfection,

beyond judgment,

beyond misery,

beyond the charades,

beyond the lies,

beyond self-delusion;

beyond love and fantasies,

beyond wondering and doubt;

beyond self;

every denial demands

atonement,

every question requires

an answer,

for every gift

there is a price,

for everything worth having

there is a cost;

I wish it were not so,

I wish there was another way.

Madness rules,

darkness lights the way,

You are all that is left

at the end of the day,

there are things

bigger than ourselves,

beyond thinking or reason,

there are things that

matter most,

there are things that define

who we are,

the miles go by,

the years pass,

the end is near;

soon enough,

soon enough.

This poverty has

another face,

another kind of soul,

quiet and alone,

frightened and confused,

suicide can be so blind,

nothing more than

a whisper,

spitting and sputtering,

laughing and pretending;

you cannot love anyone,

until you have learned

to grieve for everyone.
.
.

Home

Sitting in this greasy,

all night, Michigan redneck, café,

sipping on dark stale coffee,

listening to the local philosophers

as they eat their breakfast,

on their way to dry-walling and other

assorted craft jobs,

indoors of course (getting to cold for outside work),

discussing the beating death

of a Wyoming fag (their word),

and how the poor ole boys who did it

will never get a fair trial,

what with all the negative publicity,

and what is this world coming too

when you can’t even bash a few fags around

and get away with it,

after all, they was just having a little fun,

they didn’t actually mean to

kill the little fucker (chuckles all around).

While listening the thought occurs,

that with just a different twist of fate,

I could be sitting at that table,

with all the other small town know-it-alls,

discussing world politics and Wyoming fags,

and it is only now that I realize

I don’t belong here anymore,

just as the swamplands and muskrats

of south jersey do not belong here,

this place I once called home

has become just another town

full of strangers and family

I no longer know,

nor care too;

this place leaves me feeling

so empty and impotent.

I think of my wife,

the woman who has been with me

for more years than I once lived in this place,

the woman whose touch still electrifies me,

the woman who has become my one constant,

my only reality,

the one thing I can depend on,

together we have built a new home,

free from family or friends interference,

she is where I belong;

she is my home.

Innocent Passage

And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, And said, "Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me. But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea."   Matthew 18:2-6

"Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven." Matthew 18:10

Hear the song of the morning dove

my precious child,

calling out across the empty fields,

leading you back

to the land

of fairy tales and dreams,

where your soul shall know

kindness and sweetness

once more;

do not weep

my beautiful little flower,

for surely it is an

innocent passage

into this shining kingdom,

where angels softly sing,

cradling you gently

in their protective arms,

wiping away your tears,

a place where the darkness

of this world,

shall cross your face

no more.

.

.

holding on

We hold on

to moments;

seconds,

minutes,

hours,

days,

years;

we hold on

to forever.

The light burns low,

dignity all that is left,

love the final offering;

in the end

triumphing over all.
.
.

Power

For the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. I Corinthians 4:20 (KJV)

For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. I Corinthians 4:20 (NIV)

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12

Your power is beyond all

that this world can comprehend,

like a philosophy or psychology

we try to minimize who You really are,

sweeping You under man-made rugs,

placing You inside man-made boxes,

trying to restrain You with man-made

laws and traditions,

never understanding,

never knowing,

never able to fully acknowledge,

that everything we are,

everything we know,

exists only by Your

unfathomable mercy and grace,

through the unlimited power

of Your Word alone,

that every breath taken is a gift,

which can never be repaid;

through Your power

I am given a taste of a world

free from sin,

a world of love and hope,

stripped of all its suffering and fear;

without hate,

without lust,

without greed;

through Your power

I begin to understand,

through the Holy Spirit

I start to see,

a world which my mind

cannot fully grasp,

an indescribable place

prepared from the beginning

for those who love You,

a world that leaves me humbled,

perfect and pure,

beyond words,

without compare,

a world where I can only

fall down before You

and whisper;

my Lord,

my Master,

my King;

my Everything.

.

.