Summer days, and a
Brown-eyed gaze, and a
A country lake, and pier–
Moonlit haze and stars
Ablaze, sitting in
The center of the mirror.

Oh, who can this be
Looking at me, when
There’s other goofs around?
But I shoulda known
What the ol’ wind’s blown
Only knows how to fly.

For her not knowing
How to play, we made
That old guitar sound good.
Every summer, looked
Forw’d to another,
Spent alongside my friend.

We were skipping stones
And singing sad songs,
Though she never said why.
We were different,
Not at all the same,
But not much not alike.

Though we were just friends,
While just kids, we knew
A thing ’bout being there–
We found heart-shaped stones
On the ol’ railroad
That spoke, “love’s unbreakable.”

So when her parents
Were all on the fence
She knew right from the wrong,
Embraced the heart shape
Wore on her neck, but,
Worn, it just rubbed it in.

Now I don’t know what
All then happened there,
Except 15 needs a home,
But she went to school
Somewhere out of state
And somewhere out of mind.

Oh, there was a time
When the telephone line,
It was way too long, so,
Friends could never be
Separated, now
Lines know not where to go.

And sometimes I swear
When the weather’s fair
I see ya on the pier,

But I’m too afraid of ghosts
To discover you’re real
But not really there,

Yeah, I’m too afraid to look
And discover you’re real
But not really there.

I wrote this poem about my observations while people-watching in a small coffeehouse in Boston.

Your loud body language–
Deafening–
Is like a slap to the face,
But stings much deeper,
In accompaniment with
The song you sing.

But, for now, your words
Mismatched
With the melody of your heart
Form a painful love song–
Reveal a contradiction
Of tears and sound.

It came, then passed.
Expectations hoarded satisfaction, sharing none.
Out the window–through the panes–went the plans, through the pains.
The feigning of my lack of control
Turned from ever-realization into sudden actualization.
My momentum lost, Sovereignty kicked in,
I am caught in Love’s fate’s currents, stream.
Promises ever-unfolding–not forgotten–and I am trusting.
When only the impossible can, only the best can happen.
This will pass, it will come.

We talked.
To my surprise, it was not as awkward as it naturally could be,
Or perhaps as it naturally should be, especially during the awkward moments that followed an all-to-common topic that should probably be uncommon or otherwise less-common in natural discourse.

Next, I realized how awkward it was that it wasn’t awkward.
Of course, such an awkward thought of the awkwardness of the lack of awkwardness made me feel awkward.
In fact, at that point, I probably even began acting awkwardly.

Then, I had the realization that the realization of the awkwardness of the lack of awkwardness was making me feel awkward and probably act awkwardly.
At last, I decided to stop thinking about it and just revel in the awkward lack of awkwardness of the otherwise naturally-awkward situation, which otherwise would have been awkwardly awkward if I had not stopped thinking of its awkward and unnatural lack of awkwardness.
Get over it—people are awkward, and that, itself, is awkwardly not-so-awkward.

Brilliance drives by.
Filter horizontal stripes
Onto headlights
Cornering shadows,
And together they dance the
Brief waltz that
They die to live for.

Horizon leaning,
Diagonal spinning,
The fade then flashes.
Cars distancing
The dim nighttime hues
That fall between
My fingers like time’s sand.

Pillow cools my mind.
Breath shortens
While form escapes me.
Stanzas are failing.
The night’s music that
Chimed so lovely then
Now forebodes that sanity’s a temporary vapor.

Thoughts evaporate as
The sound of raindrops mists them.
I still feel but
No worries are left in the game.
I feel peace and
Wonderful love and
Even see the potential future today.

(Submitted from my phone.)

During Sunday Night’s Community Group, a vision overwhelmed me. Here, I’ll try to capture that experience.

Prayers
Answered.
Hearts spoken to.
Holy Spirit moved,
But by selfishness removed.

And this is what it looks like when
God whispers in the hearts of men.
And this is what it feels like when
Our own ambitions turn us away.

I cried,
For Heaven was crying,
And the sorrow we dealt
Was drowned out by the sorrow I felt.

Nation
Dying.
Saints proclaiming.
Leaders denying
And Heaven is crying.

And this is what it looks like when
God hears our intercessions.
And this is what it feels like when
Those we care about do not listen.

And I cried,
For Heaven was crying,
And the sorrow they dealt
Was drowned out by the sorrow I felt.

Oh, I cried
When I saw how Heaven cries.
And the sorrow–oh, the sorrow–
Was a sorrow I never before felt.

The sorrow–
My sorrow–
Shared in Heaven’s sorrow,
Heaven’s sorrow.

And then I could see,
See what we are meant to be–
See what we could be–
And I cried at the beauty.

I am.
Neither my father nor my mother, but of both.
I am small
But like my brothers, I am my own.

I grow.
It’s a race against the clock, and I was made eager to grow.
I am alive
And like others in my race, taste human rights.

I dream.
Not in thought, but my heart beats the rhythm of the human spirit,
Freedom’s song.
The passion of humanity and individuality flows through my veins, it’s how I was made.

Ask why.
My mother could be unwilling to care for me, or might have been raped,
I do not know.
But I do know I’m not to blame.

Ask why.
My only protection from the world has turned on me.
Turn away
You won’t protect me from my kin, though I have no fighting chance.

Ask why!
I wish I could understand how the world could be so cruel as to blame me.
In this world
That promotes this and only this way out, I wish I wasn’t made guilty.

I cry.
I might be incapable physically, but I’d try.
The heart that
Is still in formation, oh how it can feel heartache.

I cry.
This is how it feels to be forsaken, and now I’ll never meet my first love, laugh with friends, or chance the American Dream.
I think little
But if only I’d been given the chance for after-thought, these are what I’d say.
Yes, if I had a voice before my death sentence, these are what I’d plea.

I die.
If only I was given the chance to forgive you and this world, then I could have tried.
But I die,
I die.