Prison of Want

relentless abuses and how I yield to them

inflicted on the back of me

mirror tells me I deserve them

lingers here my soul in the sorrow of want

aching need beyond the threshold of sanity

memories of peace

and how they haunt me

I wanna let go

I wanna quit

release the ties that bind me

cease the tethering of my heart

to a world destructive

push away the hands of greed

unspoiled self

have I so willingly forgotten

beneath the surface you sink

bind me with the sinews of my own flesh

slipping to a place where skin grows numb

and senses subdued

unless provoked by you

whisper to me something real

and the thoughts that spin my head

the off tempo voices  

my break-neck ramblings

are at once silenced

I want of rhythm

speak words

that reach into the marrow of me

beyond  the noise I am screaming

in these bondages I am dreaming

while the pushers are slipping

dollars through the doorway

offering yet another taste

I want of something real,

from origin of self the dark rhythm

of footsteps and heart beats

the invisible substance that

satiates my insatiability

an answer

the un-tethering of my heart

in silence will my revelries be

once the voice that spoke my soul into existence

prophesies over me

and at His feel I’ll lay in

the blissful surrender of self

it is the truth that sets one free

Confession of a Fallen Follower

This poem was inspired during a recent sermon by my Pastor entitled Confessions. What would we say if we're honest? From the heart of this follower, my confession.

I am the converted one that follows

long ago laid entombed now risen savior.

My hungry soul in quiet ways allows,

the sin of weakness lending to waver.

My eyes see His glory, living Lord

though knee bows not in moments of anguish

lingering there my need creates a hoard.

Selfishness, I’m sure to lie in languish.

Rescue me, revive me, beyond this flesh,

inadequate I am to follow Him.

This tortured life I self inflict a mess.

Heart cries out, mercy, breathe on me again.

Mosaic life in it’s untold glory

Artisan hands are crafting my story

Thoughtful Journey

the dew fresh morning

slips onto rose-petal-lips

awakening sensations

greeting with consciousness

life from slumber gently walking

bare feet on hardwood floors

steps beginning a forward launch of

my harpooned heart toward home

with guile tasting abolition

that comes from want of freedom

the willingness to sacrifice is rendered

for the redemption of us all

fresh in thoughts provoked by news

acknowledged with black ink on white

pursuing expression of thankfulness

subduing thoughts animalistic

wandering thoughts behind veiled eyes

seeking unhindered transcendence

of self beyond boundaries of flesh

in contemplative prayer discover truth

Vanity of Vanaties, all is Vanity,

and chasing after wind.

Tethered Heart

As a Mother I don’t expect to encounter a lifetime of angst when awaiting the arrival of my first child. This strange new traveler that would be brought through my body, cradled by bones, blanketed by flesh. In the quiet moments, with hands on stretched skin while she would turn beneath I would hope for a life grander than my own, and whispered silent prayers for health and safety. 

Our children are birthed into fallible arms, too weak to sustain a battle spanning their lifetimes or ours.

My eldest child turned seventeen years old this past month. Breaths away from the cultural standard of adulthood and I realize how much she still doesn’t know, more importantly, I realize how much I still have to learn. The influence of the world is not what we would have it be. In fact at times it is a full frontal assault to those of us that follow the way. I wish I could keep my daughter from the dark things of this world, but at best, I can prepare her.

Jesus, the light in the darkness, whispers to each of us, to Mother and Daughter to follow Him as he carves this unearthly path out of the darkness. I know many ways in which the world works, the seduction and empty promises an orphaned culture offers like a pimp, drawing you to a place where you are willing to sell the most precious thing you can posses, your intimacy with Christ. 

The world and all of its influence will not get smaller unless I come before the One who is bigger.

I am thankful that my heart is now tethered to Jesus, and it tugs when I am moving in a direction not toward him. I am a slave no longer to a life far from Him. My imperfect steps will bring me to my knees, and cause me to question my heart intentions. We’re fools if we think that we will escape the need for repentance and correction. We all have a choice to respond well to it, or build a fig-leaf-wall around our hearts or allow the clothing of Christ cover our woundedness, even if it is self-inflicted. My prayer for my children is that their hearts are tethered tightly to Him, and that their steps are drawn continually back upon the path that leads toward Him, and toward eternity.

Diving into His words surrounding the fleshly ears I hear though and them is the refuge from the world that I seek.

She’s going to college soon. She will have to make choices and accept real world consequences for her actions, not a simple grounding from the cell phone. I know that my daily influence will minimize, but my prayers will never cease. And that’s the only power we Mother have, the ability to surrender our Children to the parentage of God the Father when we are unable. He alone is the ever-present parent.

Allow me to pray along side you, as you parent your young ones.