Trouble in this world, a poem

I suppose faith would indeed be seen as weak,

those who pity us 

who rely on the unseen. For true strength

rises up on the wings of broken 

hearts and flesh, invisible

not because of what we have done but

because of who HE is.

the true

pity is for the ones who do not know

who cannot see the goodness 

in the land of the living,

who cannot help

but mock and reopen the stripes of the 


who died for even them. No 

justice comes 

from arguing about the shade of red to a blind man.

And so we traipse 

on, the bruised and weary land

I love thirsting for the one drink

they refuse to taste.


Noise. A poem.

all the world’s


tongues outstretched to taste

the vomit of


false and

rhetorical, voices

screeching with righteousness.

where are the still

small ones, sitting

cross cross applesauce 

not to be heard but

to hear

the only one whose 

Word matters,

calming like a clear smooth stream

saturating souls

waiting on

Him. only

then can we love. 

““Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one! You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. 

“And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up.”

‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭6:4-7‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

summer truth rising. a poem. 


rising with the sun




against my heart. i STEP


on the newly mown 

grass, the FOLDING and BENDING

of each FRAGILE strand

crisp then 


between my toes

too long stuffed in winter

shoes, each step 


the bright red of the trumpet


with the release of


every stamen stretching,