May the Words of My Mouth...

A glance to the sky
A shooting star
And wrapping the mind around the thought
That I am the lucky one

Because I see sky
Because I see stars
Because my mind goes to places
Where the lucky ones live
Aware of all the dirty, aware of all the broken, aware of all the scary, hungering for the hurting
And yet the stars promise more
And that is why the lucky ones don't live by chance
But extravagance looks like grace in the midst,
Forever, right now, draped in hope

back home,
back where the insomnia
begets backwards thought processes unneeded, unnoticed, unproductive
yet relentless.

back when all this started
looking backwards wasn't such a long glance.
the horizon wasn't so far away,
and promises weren't just in the stars.
back then, they were inside too,

and i need.
i notice.
but i don't want to go back.

stop please.
thank you.

into
the dark
night she fell
asleep her hand beside
his while their hearts did
not digress into what it meant
and quietly in rest they
let life look for
light to help
figure it
out

i like these six little lines, fifteen words, penned on a post-it note last summer

curiousity unhindered
might not discover
the intentionality
or it might
uncover slightest wonder
becoming fate

from when I moved from Toronto to Texas and all the traveling in between.

Wanderlust (9/14/04)
Home moves.
That's the summation of a few years of travel-
Winter makes snow-capped mountains stared at through windows in fire-warmed houses feel like home,
While ocean's waves against bare feet on the tip of Africa make a summer home,
A bed beneath the stars in Europe,
A thin sheet wet to cool in Asia,
A simple Polish meal of cabbage and sasuage amid a family whose language keeps secrets.
Home moves
to wherever heart's rhythms match up with another's...
even if momentarily.

Jadyn (8/23/04)
Perched on my shoulders
a blueprint of a man
his small fingers wrapped in my hair
pulling and laughing as he pulls again
and all of the moments seem frozen in time
when sadly I anticipate goodbye
to this child, among my best friends.

9/4 untitled
hurting doesn't mean broken
but can you kiss the hurting heart
and heal the broken parts
so unhindered my face can be set
wholly, soley towards you?

9/24 sleep
I dreamed last night in my sleep
Awoke and wondered at my peace
Curious to see if you're still here.

For Nate, who made me feel beautiful (9/30/04)
and in their hearts they danced
celebrating unseen goodness
they laughed
remembering forgotten truths
in their stories
lies the stories of humanity's redemption
memories of truth

Home (10/24/04)
There's something about who you are that brings peace to where I am,
Something about who you live that makes me seem small again.
And that's a good thing
'cause I fit in the palm of your hand.

Home 2 (10/28/04)
Wander as far as the farthese expanse
to wonder at love beyond grasping, immense
Faithful beyond the darkest path,
lighting it,
lighting it,
until it is home,
this stop in the road, familiar and unknown.

all this brokenness fertilizing the droughted bits needs a bit of attention
something, someone to give drink, obliterate thirst so life can reproduce itself
not death
or all will linger at her doorway, captivated while insecure
wearing her costume and believing it defines identity
it is not ok
it is not ok
but all this brokeness seems here to stay, fused to the soul,
mistaken for a healthy restlessness of wanting more

Calm THIS mind.
Rest THIS heart.
(the way water goes still at sunset, when the wind dies
and nature's breath, steady, silent
goes on, asleep and alive, vast with the beyondness of all eternity
lapsed in a moment of time, at ease)
With surrounding,
with possibiility,
with hope,
with dreams,
more than yesterday, more than tomorrow,
an easy slumber of peace
for this little while
until it's time for until to be now.

Like knotted together shoe laces
tripping over these events that happened before,
some fond memories locked up with pandora
boxing anticipation so that the gift-wrapping on the outside
sometimes tricks belief towards conviction that peering inside
couldn't be nearly as good as holding on without risk of what could
make an un-stuck, untangled something different

is this a question of fear or forbidden forgottens?