A Word To My Reader
I am not a perfect voice calling out in the dark, but a broken voice calling out in the dark. I have not said anything perfectly, nor have I ever touched on perfection flawlessly. Every element I speak on found here will fall short on every degree because of the breadth and width of which the topic expands (both logically and emotionally). In fact the only thing I can come closest to in explaining perfectly would be my brokenness, because that, I know better than perfection. I can only try to speak about the glimpses of perfection I have seen in my life. Please bear that in mind as you read. I hope that these compositions can bring further light to the honest depths and heights that life teaches us about ourselves, the world around us, and the starter of this all, God.
As Phillip Lopate says, in reading this you will learn more about my “habits of thought” than the activities that actually make up my day to day. I do not assume that most will want to read any of this, but for the one who is feeling lost or confused, for the one who is trying to find reason to keep living, for the one who is fighting against himself, others, or his God, and desiring to better understand why, I hope these pieces of writing might be a friend to you. I hope they push you to press on, to appreciate living (and working), to appreciate the smallest of moments with a family member, close friend, or stranger. I hope they move you to explore and imagine, to find the “why” behind anything, and to trust that though we have a finite understanding, the One who is infinite has been made accessible to mankind. Mankind meaning you and me, and there is no small amount of peace to be found in that truth.
P.S. I attached a song to the bottom of each composition to accompany its reading. Enjoy!
Till My Hope Is Sparked
Ukraine 2022 (February 26, 2022)
Though my eyes will close
When I think of pain
When I hear the news
Of violent way
Though my fear grows strong
And my heart gives way
At final moment
Will confidence fade?
The tears that run
As loved ones part
To see them again
Not known in heart
Will you be my hope
Will you be my strength?
When soul feels alone
And suffers at length?
The power of iron
And the strength of steels
Hold no great power
To the One that heals
Though my heart doubts it
And my mind grows dark
I will shout these truths
Till my hope is sparked
A Small Breath released
Has power to take
A fortress to knees
And solve this at stake
For A Mighty Arm
And All-Present Stare
Can remove our harm
And restore what’s fair
He fights for what's good
And never backs down
He is not pressured
By pain or war’s sound
He, louder than booms
That ring in our ear
Yet still more gentle
Than a mother near
To Him, we belong
With eternal fame
Who has seen it all
Experienced each pain
Been broken and torn
He too knows it well
Yet maintained His good
Though pressures of hell
He is not heartless
His love is not cold
Let evils of men
Yet, make us be bold
He could have kept secret
His kindness and truth
But instead reveals
And love, He proves
Breaks not a promise
Supplies each our needs
He, our strong fortress
Conquest of good deeds
They may hurt and harm
But we, loved and kept
For goodness will win
Hope, not go unmet
You Said the Sky
(January 20, 2019)
Let’s sit in the silence and simply do nothing.
We’ll stare at the sunset and find that we’re smiling.
No words were spoken, but I knew what you were thinking,
Or I guess we weren’t thinking as much as just breathing.
Soaking it in till our hearts overflowed,
Light gleamed from our eyes and spilled out our souls.
I asked you what your favorite thing was in nature.
Mine was the light, the way it touched every creature.
You sat a bit, then answered with tender eyes.
You said the sky, but that too often, we miss out on its design.
If one would just go outside and look up a little more often,
You said they’d see all was okay;
“Our mess-ups can’t change the galaxies or make the stars soften.”
You went on for a while, and I just gathered and gleaned,
And the last of what you said also stuck out to me:
“Every hour, the Artist puts up a new display,
How can we know art if we don’t see it when it’s right in front of our face?”
A Moment With Mother
(December 31, 2018)
I could feel her presence over my figure as she reached to grab the blanket resting on the back of the couch. Her hands made little sound as she first draped the blanket on my feet and then slowly pulled it up to my chin.
I dared not open my eyes to reveal I had been awake, for that would steal from her the joy of looking after the one she had taken care of since infancy. And I dared not open my eyes, for that would rip from me the peace of being taken care of as though I was a child again. Pride is not an issue when you are receiving care while you sleep.