use this

Some days I feel that life is a puzzle
and I'm just a piece
trying to find the space where I fit.
After all these years,
I've still never found it.

Some days I conclude
I'm not meant to be here,
And all I want to do is disappear.
I look at the future and see nothing
and nowhere.

But if I am God's workmanship,
I am this way and I'm in this place on purpose.
God's not finished sanding off my edges,
and though it's rough,
I'm confident He will use this.

on editing

Fearful fusion of past and present,
I never live in just one moment.
A piece of paper smeared with lead,
A poem unfinished until it's dead.

The past changes with my perception.
No, I could never be a collection
Of snapshots captured and frozen,
For you one day to look back on.

I guess I'm just a fickle writer
Hopelessly addicted to the eraser,
The pickiest of photographers
Endlessly editing his pictures.

I shy away from the pen
And publish over and over again.
Pacing, backspacing, until death comes,
Erasing myself, polluting the poems.

small town

Have you ever walked
Through a small town
In the heart of the night?
Watched the traffic lights blink
Their warnings
To an empty street?

When you're curled up in your bed,
Or talking to a friend,
Don’t forget
There is blackness just beyond.
There is utterly alone.

It’s difficult to contemplate
The infinite while indoors.
You flip a switch
And suddenly
The darkness disappears.

While just outside the window
Trees stand silent,
Stoic, tall.
All the world
Outside your walls has stopped
And you are small.

Now you're standing,
Solemn
In the middle of a road.
Swallowed deep in darkness
Thinking, blinking
All alone.

namesake

Sarah,
Sister of doubt.

Tell me, how did you cope
In a new city

When he did not claim you as his own?

Before the pharaoh a fair sibling,

Your identity unknown.

Sarah,
Wife of faith.

You followed him,

You left your home.

For the promise of a blessing,
Of a nation,

Travelled from Shechem to Canaan.

Sarah,
Mother of laughter,

Holding a miracle inside her.

Tell me, how did you feel

As they climbed the hallowed hill,

And he built an altar,

Drew his knife to kill?

Sarah,
Mother of laughter,

Wife of faith, of doubt a sister.

Grant me faith to follow,

Hope for miracles in hollow.

Grant me strength to love,

The ability to give him up.

hymn

I saw you
Unexpectedly today.
Felt the glowing gold
Of French horns
Trumpets and trombones
Heard their shining sound
And swam
In warm brass waters.

Your voice
A blanket long enough
To cover the tips
Of my cold toes.
Not with fancy prose
But great care,
And the mellow, even tone
I knew you for.

I always looked up to you
A star on top
Of tinsel and lights
And pine.
Quietly glowing,
Revering, remembering
Smaller
Happier times.

My worries were younger
When I knew you,
Wild and untamed,
Honest, unnamed.
I remember driving to the city
To watch the tubas play.
I held the music
While you joined their caroling.

“Angels we have heard”
I felt the world
Golden and grand,
And when I saw you
I missed that time,
Longed to be young
And filled with wonder
Again.

Christ was born,
And angels sang.
He came to wear our skin.
I left my worries
At the manger with Him
When I looked into your eyes
And heard
A hymn.