Sunday, September 27, 2015

The Storm Uphill

Always has been 
exhausting-
And maybe
shy of impossible-
To like yourself,
to fight for yourself,
over and over
and over
again.

To insist upon 
your beauty
your worth
your relevance.

To climb uphill 
every day
willingly
rejecting the screams from the mirror, 
the scale,
your own filthy
expectations...
Ripping up the old tapes,
burying the lies.
To tell yourself
the truth
and
to believe it.
To fight that hard- 
constantly-
to really, 
really
believe it.

And then-
nothing 
can shatter me
quite like you.

To have 2 hours of your life
On any wooden floor
strip you naked
dry,
and take back 
everything 
you've fought for.

To beckon the girl inside,
the one who wants 
nothing more than
to 
be
something,
But won't hurt anyone
in the process.
Who isn't
falsely composed
and high 
on shitty,
empty promises
Someone who wants it.
Not 
for the wrong reasons.

To be back at 0.
Because it's never enough
to just 
go against 
the competition.
No.
You compete against 
your defeaning
impossible
past.
Your toxic
scarred 
memories

And you forgot it, but
they always know how to win.

And,
you know
how empty it is
to 
hate 
you,

again.


Self hatred
is a storm
that hits
at the 
snap 
of
fingertips

And
I'm never 
quite
ready
for 
the rain.




Thursday, July 16, 2015

Thoughts on the James Holmes Trial

I tend to have a hard time whenever highly controversial subjects come into the news- not necessarily due to the subjects themselves, but how they in turn trigger public responses. I believe that our responses to such events say far more about our society than any informative news report covering any groundbreaking event. Our behaviors and words following such announcements speak volumes to the capacity for morality of the human spirit.

While I am encouraged to see long overdue legal action providing some sense of closure following a horrendous tragedy, I am equally saddened by the subsequent outpouring of hatred on social media from the public. I think that often our sense of justice, one that I believe is informed and designed and instilled within us by a just God, is clouded by grief expressed through anger. That palpable grief-anger concoction yields a toxic hatred, one that we (falsely) believe is righteous.

To clarify- I will never suggest that this sort of anger is invalid. No, if anything, it is the most legitimate and justified, and I can never imagine the immense rage and disgust that is felt while watching these events unfold. I will never fully understand the heartache of those directly affected by these events. And I will never pretend like I do. Please. feel what you need to feel, and process what has happened to you in your own time and your own way. I will listen to you. I will respect your choice to remain silent or your choice to speak. I will never be a person that tells you to forgive and forget, or to let it go and move on. No. There are wrongs in this world that will never be righted this side of heaven. I grieve with you in the brokenness of the world, and my heart is deeply saddened by this tragedy and all of its consequences. I am angry for you and alongside you.

And yet, though our anger is legitimate and justified, hatred is not. Hatred is never right. Hatred is contradictory to humanity itself. No one hatred is more evil than another, because all hatred tears apart the seams of mankind. There is no such thing as righteous hatred. By hating the haters and the hated, by hating James Holmes, we surely become the monster we so desire to obliterate. And this sense of righteous hatred is incredibly isolating and ultimately self defeating.

As you "celebrate" this victory, please actively remember that grief is never done. Grief for the victims, grief for the survivors, grief for families and loved ones of those lost, grief for the atrocity, grief of memory, grief of consequences, and grief for James Holmes himself. As the verdict of the Aurora shootings is announced, please respond with grace and kindness. Do not let your passion for justice be fueled by the fire of hatred. Because James Holmes is a child of God, fearfully and wonderfully made in His image. The ground is equal at the foot of the cross, and that is no small pill to swallow. Let's continue to wrestle with God as we are confused by his abundant, all encompassing, perfect grace. I believe that He grieves with us, that He is angry alongside us, and that He hurts for us. I also believe that He is big enough to handle our righteous anger and big enough to handle our questions and big enough to love James Holmes. 

While there is comfort in knowing that legal action has been taken, peace cannot come from a court room. I know that no verdict will ever be sufficient to serve justice- not completely. I pray that in this time that we seek the peace of God- peace that surpasses understanding. Peace that surpasses our deepest sorrows. Peace that surpasses the cruelty of this world. Peace that surpasses legal jurisdiction. Peace that surpasses 3 long years of waiting. Peace that surpasses severe mental illness. Peace that surpasses our capacity for hatred.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

radio silence

Relentlessly I am searching-
I must have missed the exit sign,
the last call.
Where were you?
I tried to yell, but-
They made us stand in lines.

And somehow,
I still gravitate toward you
You towards me- it’s not hard
We have existed in a rotation for too long
This curved path projected and doomed us-
elliptical

You are my peripheral, darling
In a force called gravity.
The only sight I have known.
Our trajectory named “allies”
You can turn around,
but you
Will move with me- still.
or maybe it’s against me.
Maybe it was always against me.

Either way
(And, neither way)
You’re lost
And you won’t pick up

I change the dial,
Kill the static.
Tune in and out and in,
Filtering out the sentiment and hindsight,

I am trying to find you,
and trying to let you find me.

But I cannot stay on this line
demanding a deafening reticence
Where the only muttering of you
is a broken promise
you call

radio silence




Saturday, June 6, 2015

Oh, if he could love me back.

My desire to be near to you is always clearest when we're about to leave. 
I forget how you have carried me through time in your cloud.
And as we descend there comes 
the realization that I won't see you again
for who knows how long.
(Because really, I don't have a reason to.)

The mastered melody of how you speak to me will dissipate.   
And I won't be seen in the way you see me- clearly, poignantly. 
I will forget that you are magic and how you remind me that I am too.
That you are the kind of man who fills me up with value in a single glance. 

So I will conveniently forget the feeling
I will lose the glow
I will forget until tomorrow 
And the tomorrow after that

And the next time I see you
Whenever that may be
You will look the same 
All the same 
But 
A metal band 
On your left hand
Will remind me
Just how far away you are. 


Friday, May 29, 2015

Bluebirds


Regret is not the right word
But “nostalgia” is too soft
It is in the distance
Your eyes forbade to meet
The downcast spirit
Hiding in my skin

It only comes out at night, 
the second after the second after the second-
I am alone.
And among the trees I descend into hollowness, 
where I may resemble 
and deserve the back until next time

The next night
 A new attack,
I crouch low neath the bluebirds 
to find courage 
under their flapping wings 
pulsing toward me
And I bite!
I fly!

The magnitude of the sun
Refills my hollow whole
Until your lifeless gaze
Demands I give the pieces back

So homeward I choke every memory
Every spot, every syllable-
Watch the soldiers of my mind bleed out and away

Because really I needed yet another
One more reminder
That I have become a shell
A skeleton, piecemeal, or penultimate
Voices of bluebirds
Humming your song to the ghosts in the grave

They sing not of regret-
Not of memory-
They sing to grieve lost magic and blanked eyes