-
Restoration (A Ballad-Prayer)
I want to forget this world And all its pain and strife To fix my eyes on you and you alone To love you for the rest of my life... You heal my broken heart from indescribable grief You listen, you hear me in the secret place where deep cries out to deep. Why would I run from your presence? Your love is a healing balm that coats my soul. Though many were torn away from me You've come to restore and make me whole. Again - you call out to me Your voice gentle and sweet I feel like a child again, Jesus, when I sit at your feet. You talk to me and you listen. I have seen too much, though I am yet young... You see the pain in my eyes, but I know - Loving you has kept my heart from being numb. I know you also bleed. I know you also weep. I know your heart breaks for them and for me, And I know we're united in grief.
-
Bluebird
With summer dancing in his eyes, Rays of sunlight trapped in his hair, The joy of suffering made his heart wise. Freedom was his desperate enterprise, To escape the war in the middle of nowhere With childhood’s summers dancing in his eyes. Flying southward, he rode the grey autumn skies Set on his decision, barely able to pay the subway fare, The pain of suffering makes his heart wise. Exiled from the land of his youth, he cries Silently in the night, no hand to hold him there, With summer drained out of his eyes. In the morning he breathes — it is time again to rise And to bury the night’s suffocating despair... The joy of suffering makes his heart wise. Hands to the plow, another day to agonize Over a job that gives him no joy, muttering "Life is so unfair..." Summer is a distant dream, having departed from his eyes. Yet a kind face with a kind voice arrives Saying, "Things will get better - spring is in the air! And: know that the joy of suffering will make your heart wise. For the seed must die before it produces life. Buried in the ground, it sleeps unaware Of how summer's sunlight will again return to its eyes. You see, freedom always has a price." But now, he pays it gladly, knowing that someone else cares For him, the summer dances once again in his eyes. The joy of suffering has made his heart wise.
-
Despedida
The empty van climbs up unto the driveway We have empty hearts Emptied out Birthpains of a new season for her Distracted by The dazzle of dreams - Airports were hallowed ground for me. But I knew I had to break out of my ego Reach out and let you know... I don’t know It was awkward talking to you Telling you what you meant to me but only the surface because I’d written most of it already Maybe I just didn’t have the heart to repeat it all again Almost dropped to the brink of tears, reasonable tears but at the last second, pulled back up again by others’ nervous laughter Masks hiding broken hearts My mind can’t comprehend it. I was choking up reading the second part of the Proverbs 31 passage but I hid it and kept on reading Structure before emotion Composure before authenticity I wouldn’t let myself believe it It was painful seeing you walk out Walk into the threshold I almost felt it there I almost felt it There But the boys were laughing behind me And I saw the way you walked in your awkward shuffling way Even if you were weeping it was still so you So that made me chuckle —— I feel crestfallen.
-
Keeper of the past
my latest pantoum
It was as if he had just walked straight out of a book
I was used to seeing older faces teach us, but here he arrived
With a young face, Darcy-esque curly hair, and furrowed brow
He had intention in his gait, this keeper of the pastI was used to seeing older faces teach us, but here he arrived
With a thick American accent and an Armenian last name
He had intention in his gait, this keeper of the past
“What do you know about your past?” he asked usWith a thick American accent and an Armenian last name.
He looked at every one of us – we who had come from all corners of the earth –
“What do you know about your past?” he asked us.
And so he filled the whiteboard with the words we had inheritedHe looked at every one of us – we who had come from all corners of the earth –
We who owned different languages and grappled with a multiplicity of identities
And so he filled the whiteboard with the words we had inherited –
Even from me, an alien and a stranger in his own landWe who owned different languages and grappled with a multiplicity of identities
Found ourselves in his young face, Darcy-esque curly hair, and furrowed brow
We loved him – even me, an alien and a stranger in his own land
It was as if we had just walked straight out of a book. -
Hello World!
Welcome to WordPress! This is your first post. Edit or delete it to take the first step in your blogging journey.
Pensive Pantoums & Enchanting Enjambments 