lunar eclipse

Wonders of
The human eye,
The way a lens
Can bend the light.
An iris with
Blue thread crocheted,
Woven round
Black void of space.

So dark within
That stormy sphere,
Who would know
It was truly clear?
The pupil widens,
Embracing the light.
We see straight through
To the retina behind.

Center of color
With rods and cones,
Fovea centralis-
Dividing rainbows.
The lunar eclipse
That I see in your eyes
Is truly a palette,
All colors combined.

pink lemonade days

I took a sip of the warm summer sun
As it shone down so sweetly,
Tenderly touching the trunk
Of an old oak tree.

I ran my eager hand
Along its rugged surface,
Ancient and rough,
And I felt so young,
With hands so soft-
So easily bruised and splintered.

I asked the tree,
"Why are you so rough?"
For afternoons are soft with sunshine,
Light and smooth
With delicate daisies peeking through.

And the tree said to me,
"The grass withers
And the flowers fade,
New again each Spring are made.
But here I've stayed
As seasons changed,
Always rooted deep remained.

"I am rough because of all I have seen,
And all I have lost.
I have said goodbye
To many an autumn leaf,
Turned to brown and fallen away.
I have shed my magnificent shades
Time and time again,
And braved wildest winter wind,
With branches weighed down in white.

"Ask me how I became rough,
And I'll tell you it takes time.
It takes bleakest winters
And autumn change,
It takes sun-kissed summers
And rainy-day springs
To make me grow
And give me rings."

I looked at the tree,
So much older than me,
As my freckled fingers danced
Across its jagged wooden shield, so hard,
Yet I sat beneath
Sheltered in softest summer shade.

I suppose I would have liked to stay forever soft
To dwell in endless summer afternoons.
But time did pass,
And my flowers did fade.
Seasons danced
And danced away,
Spiraling into rings as I grew.

But though I'm harder now,
More guarded,
With skin no longer smooth,
Undamaged-
What the tree didn't tell me
Is that I'm so much taller now.
I can see things I could never see before,
During the days of pink lemonade
And shade.

It takes time,
And it takes pain.
It takes loss with gain.
But now I am the tallest of trees.

I may be rough,
But it's because I'm strong.
Softest grass will wither
And flowers fade,
But I will stand forever.

sometimes stars

Sometimes stars fall-
Light descending,
Glittering, bending,
Paints the sky,
And we make wishes.

And sometimes the moon goes dark-
Disappears from sight
In blackest night,
Turns ocean tides,
And we celebrate the eclipse.

And sometimes people fall,
And sometimes worlds go dark-
But like falling stars,
We could inspire,
Dreams igniting
Even in our falling.
Let's celebrate,
For a new tide is coming.

to touch the thunder

You wanted to touch the thunder,
To throw lightning from your hands
And gather the rain in your arms.
You wanted to extinguish
The roaring fire you felt inside,
So you created a thunderstorm
To roar even louder.

But did all your efforts turn your skies to blue?
Your pouring rain
Managed to mute the flame,
But it seems you have exchanged
Your smoky air for smoky skies,
Billowing clouds and ceaseless shade.

Yes, you wanted to touch the thunder
And you did.
You grabbed ahold and didn't let go,
Because thunder feels like a hunger,
An aching and quiet burning
Never satisfied.

Building, building
Into something electric,
Something malevolent.
You feed on the anger and it lashes out,
Lightning from your hands.
Is this how it feels to have control?

You gather the rain in your arms,
As it drops from your eyes.
It seems you have only traded fire for fire,
And you're still left with only ashes.
You wanted to touch the thunder,
And you became the storm.

a lily in your garden

How beautifully You have clothed the lilies
And all the fairest flowers of the field.
How wonderful that I never have to worry
With Your pow'r and gentle kindness as my shield.

Fine linen, bright and clean, for me to wear,
Clothed in the righteous acts of all the saints-
You've made me beautiful, I need not fear
For Your condemnation now has been replaced.

In Your great love You've washed me, made me pure,
What nothing in the world could e'er destroy.
My heart is glad, my body rests secure,
For in Your presence I find fullness of joy.

So grow me now and I will gladly be
A lily in Your garden, forgiv'n and free.


*inspired by Luke 12, Revelation 19, and Psalm 16

ode to an empty page

Oh empty page,

So beautifully blank,

I do not wish to defile you,

To desecrate your spiral-bound home

With my lowly songs and poems.

Dare I decorate your lines,

Perfectly spaced and robin's-egg blue,

With the simple scrawlings of my hand?

Stainless sheet of white,

I behold you and can think of no words

So perfect that they could improve you.

Your purity is peerless,

And your possibilities without end.

Who am I to take away from

Your infinite potential?

Oh empty page,

You are without flaw,

And I am unworthy to mark you.

But please accept the gift I bring-

I wish to give you a name.

This world is full of empty pages,

And though you are perfect,

You are not unequaled.

Perhaps it would be better

To be flawed and have an identity,

Than to be perfect and a copy,

Indistinguishable from any other page.

What use has endless possibility

If you were never to use it?

Oh empty page,

Let's become something

Together.

in every crescendo

In every crescendo
I see a flower blooming,
Bursting from it's seed
Into fullness of beauty-
For the first time
Knowing the light.

In every diminuendo
I see a poem ending-
Knowing the light
In fullness of beauty,
Then tucking it away
To treasure inside.