to my next church

sit down three rows

from the back, on the left,’

maybe, i look lost

unfamiliar with your church dialect–

but i know.

i remember all the words

to the doxology, lord’s prayer

amazing grace–they eat a hole

in my cynical heart.

i watch you circle around

like buzzards looking

at this new carcass

sitting in your blueredgreen pews.

this heart beats

to slow rhythm of hope–

here is where:

i can lick my church wounds clean,

i can be healed again,

i can be.

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i watch the world explode

i watch the world

explode, crack, melt

down into barbwire words.

a top our battle-ready camps

coated in blame poison

for the others, the truly violent–

but not us, never us.

we wrap bandages tight

around our hearts

to keep our hurts

from bleeding out.

 

maybe–

someone should pull the dangling thread,

unravel our make-shift healing,

stitch our mouths shut–

so our hearts can speak.

 

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My Heart Leaks Out

My heart leaks out

Through my eyes,

Down my cheeks,

Puddling in the crevices

Of laugh lines, wrinkles

Till it drops into nothingness.

But–

No one sees.

I stand

In a storm.

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Things I should Tell You

There are some many things

I should tell you

Because silence

Invades like a militant

Armed, licking life-blood

From its razor-teeth.

Sometimes,

In the blunder-busy life,

We rush by these few words,

These things I should tell you

All melt into one thing–

I chose you, this life.

Maybe, you see through tunnel-vision eyes

Pain and anger, but look deeper

Underneath…there

Love pushes out

Because I chose you: this life, my happiness.

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Girl

girl–   

hands against glass–

against walls– against dirt–

against the slumped over world.

girl–

voice crammed in boxes–

crammed in labels–crammed in roles–

not meant for you.

girl–

speak, speak now, watch

the glass shatter, the walls break–

the world weary listen–

to your mighty whisper.

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Grief

grief lives in the corner. 

a curled up black cat with a few grays

fur raised, haunches bent,

claws fully extended,

violent hisses count seconds

ready to strike

but there’s no need.

i offer my arms up

as its scratching post.

 

Today, I am linking up with Joy in this Journey’s Life Unmasked. Join us here.

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My Body is a Battleground

Dear God,

My body is a battleground. 

All round  sirens blare,

Words drop like bombs.

Boots laced, shield ready,

I wait for the next assault–

A war, You never intended.

My body is a battleground.

Shoved into the back room

Painted with animals,

Like a naughty child

Or a POW–silenced.

My body is  a battleground.

 

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Your Hands

Dear God, 

Your Hands moved

Dust and mud

Caked together

To form us.

Oceans, trees, mountains–

A word sufficed.

But humanity needed

Your hands.

 

How have you seen God’s hands in your life?

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Poison

Dear God,

Empty pew seats once occupied

By a limp wrist, sweet voiced boy,

And a stocky, ballsy girl too loud to be proper.

Both exit the pew stage left, down the aisle.

Away from the poisonous voices,

Calling them–unnatural, sinful, damned

Behind the protection of a church bulletin.

This week, we stripped liberties from those not like us. Fear-mongering hate prevented justice from being done. I am grieved that North Carolina chose to alienate so many for the benefit of so few.

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Invisible

Dear God,

Today–

I fade into the background.

Fingers and legs and arms

Morph into the hues

Of furniture and floor.

Today–

My insides begin to leak

All over the brown carpet

So stained, no one notices.

Maybe, You do.

Today–

My mouth sewn up

In the seams of the furniture

A familiar silenced voice.

No one hears.

Maybe, You do.

 

Today, I am linking up with Life: UnMasked and Joy in This Journey. Come and share you life unmasked post here.

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