Note to myself

Investing myself in results

makes me a hooker.

+

Asking no reward

save that of knowing

that God's will is done

empowers me.

+

Either way, I suffer.

+

Suffering for reasons

I have chosen

is always preferable

to mindless victimhood.

No Vacancy

My new house is beautiful --
a nice place to visit.
I have laboured mightily to create
a new Eden
far from the wastelands
of my past.

A nice place to visit.
Can I live here?
I don't know.
Not yet.

I want to be alone.
No visitors,
no chit chat,
no coffee,
no friendly smiles.
Just me, my music, and my thoughts.

I thought my heart was empty,
but it's full,
jammed to overflowing
with all I've left behind.
No vacancy.

GOD: Is there room for Me?

ME: Always.
I'm glad I brought you along.

My Personal Good Samaritan

I'm freezing by the roadside in a blizzard.
Someone stops to help.
Does it matter who it is?

Who is today's Good Samaritan?
Someone of a different race,
or language, or religion?
Could it be the good tax auditor
or the good third-generation
welfare recipient?
The hooker with a heart of gold
or the kindly drug dealer?
The compassionate homosexual?
The socially responsible child molester
or wife beater out on parole?

Maybe it's someone
who has cheated or insulted me,
or, worse yet,
someone I have cheated or insulted.
After disliking that person,
looking down on that person,
gossiping about that person,
thinking of that person
as less lovable than myself,
I owe that person my life.

When it's time to say,
"Thank you for stopping,"
will the words stick in my throat?

Starting Over

ME: Here we go again,
locked in our dance.
I want to learn
new steps.
I want to go further.
I want to know.

GOD: Are you sure?
There is a price.

ME: I have heard Your voice
in the distance,
an echo.
I have felt Your touch
gently,
a feather of light.
I have seen You heal others
again and again.
I have thrilled
for them.
Now it’s my turn.
I’m ready.

Take me, break me,
make me Yours.

I can’t hold back any longer.
What happens, happens.
I don’t care.
Just love me.

Moving On

MOVING ON

Moment by moment,
nothing is the same.
I can’t stop time,
and yet I cling,
limpet-like,
to my delusions
of control.

+++
Chunks of fossilized fear
break, crumble, disappear –
was that ever part of me?
Whatever I let go
gives way to re-creation –
new hope, new joy,
new love.

+++
Can I believe that?
Is it true?

Freedom seems too easy.

Mislaid?

MISLAID?

Where is this kingdom
within me?
Buried out of sight?
Too obvious to see?
My passion?
My nightmare?
How do I claim it?
What am I missing?
Please point out the entrance.
No empty talk,
no testimonials.
Just show me.

Out on a Thin Limb

Father God,
You've given me
freedom to choose,
and promised
to be with me
and work with me
and through me
and even in spite of me
no matter what.

At least,
that's what
I've been told.

Could you send me
a memo of confirmation?
A menu of options
with the optimal pathways
highlighted in gold?

Recurring dream

I'm a student in an institution
of higher learning.
My curricular palette
will set me free
to swing on a star
or even two --
who knows, perhaps a whole galaxy.

However, there's water
in my rocket fuel.
For some inexplicable reason,
there's an essential course
missing.

Because of distractions,
conflicting priorities,
or simple stupidity,
I can't find the room.

I carry on numbly,
going through the motions,
knowing I will never graduate.
It's all for nothing
without that course.

WHAT AM I MISSING?

Is it just me?
Is everything in place,
but I can't see it?
Will I ever get it right?
Is it useless to try?