Early

I awoke early this morning
Sleepless in the wee-hours
the night still lingering,
the dawn struggling.
I didn't have to be awake,
holiday has granted me
the privilege of
uninterrupted sleep.
The light revealed
the world around me
covered in millions
of small ice-crytals;
like God's breath frozen
on the intricate tree branches.
What it means I do not know,
but it is a subtle reminder
of how beautiful things
can be, even in our fallen world.

Perfume

There's an empty
bottle of perfume
on my dresser.
a stark reminder
of the scent that used
to follow another me,
a different me.
The smell of her
washed away ages ago
yet still,
there's that empty bottle
sitting on my dresser.

The Other House

Here I am, at the other house.
The house I did not grow up in
I have not come home from school
to this unfamiliar collection
of walls, furniture, appliances.
My belongings are not here,
because I don't belong.
I lay here in a bed,
much too big.
and listen for the non-existent
traffic to pass my window as it
does in my now empty home.

I catch myself wondering
about the people who once
called this their home.
Why did they leave?
What did they do when they saw the house
ablaze
everything they loved going up in smoke.

Has anyone else lay in this
cold room sleepless
or thought of sneaking out the window
for a midnight stroll.
Were they ever curious
of the graveyard just up the road
and the frozen ground
beneath the snow.
Did they like the constant
trickle of the river in the spring
or loose their breath
on a winter morning
marveling at the complexity
of snow clining to the branches
of the surrounding wood.

How was it different
if this was their home?

Symphony

I find comfort in the quiet places
the stillness of night,
the rhythm of sleep,
the sound of stars that shine
long through the night
no one to appreciate their beauty.
The sound of snow flakes falling,
of dandelion seeds drifting,
the hum of the setting sun.
Perhaps no humanly noise will ever
be able to capture the majesty
of natures symphony.

loose

the greatest fear
that wells up inside
is only an idea
a daydream
somehow everything might
slip through my fist
like trying to cup water
in your hands
everything might be
ripped away
everything i love and hate
gone
every familiar comfort torn
from my loosened grasp
the emptiness of loss wells up
as i struggle to hold on

Time

some swear time is a bandage
a cold one,
like using steel to stop bleeding
It just numbs everything.
Lets you forget about the blood
still seeping out underneath.

Five

Five
It's supposed to take five years
for every cell in your body
to clone itself and die.
After five years
you're completely new
nothing of the old is remaining.
You only remember the child
you used to be, the one you're not.
I waited:
I waited five years
it's a long time.
Like a prisoner to myself
and everything the darkness ever touched
... every cell holding me back like bars.
Until finally my sentence was up
I was released-- New!
I sprang forth only to trip on my way out
scrapping my knees, bruising my heart
earning five more years.
I'm not waiting this time...
I'm not sitting in the bath tub
scrubbing with steel wool any longer
trying to shorten my sentence
and erase all of the mistakes.
I'm not trying to peel off my skin.
Because someone saw me.
They saw my cage and they said,
"Five years wasted, five more to go
I have a key.
I can unlock you.I'll make you new
right now." and I am free,
no longer waiting for
five years to pass.

washing feet

I often catch a fleeting thought
streaming across my mind
at times when I'm over come
with emotions I'd like to pretend
I don't feel.
Why do tears bloom in eyes
when sadness is impending,
when anger is peaking
anguish is rising,
frustrations are showing
and even when happiness is abounding.
Where does that empty victory come from
after ragged breathing
and choking sobs
catching thick in the throat
like a fish flopping around in a boat
struggling for its last breath.
No other creature does this,
lets water flow freely
from glassy eyes.
and no other creature tries so hard
to avoid what is only natural.
Instead of embracing it
for what it is
a release of what's welling up inside;
a way to wash feet,
while reverently asking for forgiveness
to show how wrong we were
to cleanse our eyes of images of evil
and get a clear view of a savior staring
down at us, ready to wipe our tears.