I haven’t written in a while because it seems I am suffering from a bit of writer’s block. Even though I know what I am supposed to write about- everytime I start to type the next entry, I have a hard time getting past the first few sentences. I don’t want to explain why right now. Later.

I promise though- I haven’t forgotten this project or the finish line. Lord give me strength.

Until I manage to write another entry, I’ll attempt to keep my readers with a bit of poetry. There are five poems below. They tell the story of my life in loose chronological order. Please be forgiving and know they are all works in progress- especially the last and most recent.

Praise and honor to His Name.

RESTORATION
Smoking wicks
Want to burn
But need a little air
A crushed reed
Can grow strong
And see its own repair

Hope can come
In small boxes
And yummy ice cream cones
In sunny days
Pink wool sweaters
Talks on the telephone

Smoking wicks
Turn into flame
When love breathes around
Tender shoots
Mature in blankets
Made of pillowy down

We hold treasures
In jars of clay
They’re broken, maimed and marred
But that’s okay
We have a Father
That can heal our scars

Red hot fires
Are built slowly
Starting deep in the soul
Beautiful trees
Mature to give
Fruit that makes others whole

UNLIKELY QUEEN
A graceful fawn
Dances and leaps
In fields of green
A new day dawns

Batting lashes
Beckon a lover
She blindly leaps
Wild, unabashed

Decisive break
A doe is lost
Smashed and brittle
Without her mate

A tail goes white
Exposed, alone
Searing sun wilts
Green hearts to die

Tall and robust
10 points and strong
Knows there’s promise
Sitting in dust

Velvet brown eyes
Pour golden truth
Seeps in white spots
Her soul replies

Royalty sees
Beauty covered
Calls out in love
Crowns a fawn queen

SOWING DREAMS
I choose to drive far from the city
And into bucolic looming fields
I choose to turn away from the smoke
And cast down dusty crimson walls
I choose to find a way to yield
Even when my chest burns
I choose to climb from crushed white metal
To throw a sorrowful seed
I choose to watch the long kept kernel die
Because standing there in green rolling hills
I choose to believe in whispers
And dream new dreams of glass slippers
When I cannot perceive
I will see
I will hope
I will love
I choose.

THE STAND
Not a fist
Or a wall
But a golden bloom

Family sings
Nations call
Self pales like the moon

Sharpened swords
Truth beckons
Shimmering vast deep

Craven crushed
Gallant souls
Bow low and reap