grave.

let me out 
of this buried trap.
release these chains
of society


that grip
so tightly.


the nature of
this love::
is enough.


i need this love
to pull me out.
out of this grave
i have made--


-- for myself.

in-between.

so close.
so far
away.
this decision--
i cannot make.


the guidance of
my maker--


i need::
send me.
--this fallen girl cries out.

beautiful chaos

my plans for this existence--
--mangled.
a mess of myself::i have made.
alone is me
 in this tornado 
of life.


-wait-


in the midst of it all
his delicate whisper--fills
my heart with blessedness.


i surrender to this mess--
--what a beautiful chaos.

broken record.

repetition of my sin--
--grows old
this broken record
repeats itself--
daily.
as the record spins
i grow numb.
numb to this song.
numb.
grace trickles down--
still
--this record spins
round and round.


broken.

piece of pearl

oh this white nothing
nothing!
i have come to understand
why i am here
not for myself
not for her
not for him
not for you
for something far greater
--than flesh
piece by piece
i meet grace
with depth and awe
a pureness overwhelms me--
pureness like a pearl
--and piece by piece
i.
am.
broken.
for His glory.


praise.

Heavy Heart

 I wrote this from the perspective of a 4^th grade inner city student.

 Heavy Heart

What my teacher don’t know bout me:

I hate going to school. 

When I get home from school everyday I take care 

of my two baby sisters while mom works at two different jobs. 

She gets home real late every night. 

I cook, clean, try and get the lil ones to bed, then try and do my homework. 

I usually don’t though. I am too tired. 

My dad left me when I was two. 

Never seen him again. 

I miss him. 

My moms new boyfriend comes 

over sometimes and spends the night. 

he always drinkin though and it makes him real mad. 

Usually at mom, sometimes at me. 

I am hungry. 

Mom cant afford that much food. 

I don’t ask her for lunch money--

I know she don’t got none. 

Maybe that is why I am always tired--

because I am always hungry.

I am stupid. 

The teachers at school know I cant read right. 

They make me feel--

like I cant do nothin right. 

I feel stupid so I stop trying. 

I give up on school. 

I want to learn though. 

I do. 

School just is boring. 

I don’t got time to do homework at home. 

So I always miss recess--

because I have to do it. 

That makes me look stupid to other kids. 

They make fun of me. 

I am tired. 

I am hungry. 

I miss my dad. 

I hate school. 

I am stupid.

-I want to teach the kids with hearts that are so willing to learn but too heavy to show it. Deep down there is a yearning to learn in all children. As teachers we just have to dig deep and find it. Look past their schoolwork, what is going on at home? Be understanding. Love them. Be positive. Make lessons fun, not boring. Show them how smart they really are. Help them to believe that daily. I want to show these kids that my classroom can be a place for them to get away and learn new things. A place where they feel welcomed, loved, safe, and smart. I pray for the students with heavy hearts, who are going through things I myself cannot imagine. I pray that do not feel trapped and inclined to this life. I pray that they walk through my classroom door one day, and walk out free.

soul scripts

these words--
painted on her heart
these letters arise--
from the tips of her fingers
--as she lets go of this existence
leaving behind a sweet, sweet mystery
astounding is your zeal--
your angelic adoration
--writes scripts on her soul--
creating liberation
leaving behind a sweet, sweet mystery

numb

numb
numb is me
numb to you
pain-i feel you no
love-i feel you no
numb is me
numb to you
numb

lost

what is lost shall be found
i am walking in circles
round and round-

this road is new
what once was lost::

was never really lost at all.

Hidden

Vulnerability has captured me-

I have danced in these shoes before

expressing what it is hidden

I must dance around this room

revealing secrets in every corner

reveling in this sweet mystery of depth

The Joneses.

You think you can keep up?
I bet you can't.
You will try though, of course.
You will try really, really hard.
But you will always be running.
Running, running, running.
Before you know it--
you have missed out.
On what you ask?
Why the little, simple things.
You were too busy--
watching everyone else.
Oh, but you sure did keep up!
--or atleast you thought you did.
But you see, in the end--
you were really quite far behind.
The real beauty you could of experienced--
was lost during the race.
So I ask you, do you want to run forever?

blood diamond

she screams with excitement
the ring placed upon her finger
her beloved diamond
tis beautiful in sight::


he screams from torment
the machete upon his wrists
a beloved child
couldn't put up a fight::

back to the basics::my haiku

i look at the trees
they are beautiful in sight
their leaves fall on me

to emily dickinson

The elegance of your thoughts
Poetry::seamless writings
A rare art--
from your eloquent heart
Fixed upon your fingertips--
are words of liberation

lukewarm

this shoe fits
i am ashamed to say
my heart is bitter
--everyday


why must i look at this world--
and see glamour?


how do i miss--
the ugliness?
this world is corrupt


i must look at the eternal
not the temporary

earthquake.

you stand still
beloved child of perplexity-


everything trembles
buildings are diminshing-
but you, you stand still


this world is falling
falling
falling::


what is left is nothing-
that can cure this soul


you turn to the smokey clouds
anxiety leaves your placid body
you see Him::


peace has overwhelmed you

falling leaves

these leaves are falling.

falling.

falling.

tis summer- how could this be?

the bare trees, they stand still.
i thought i knew this pattern-
then i noticed
His will.



[This poem speaks truth in that we have our daily lives, routines, and our checklists of things we think we need. Then out of nowhere something out of the ordinary happens, and we freak out. Life is not going as we had planned, and hey, leaves do not fall in the summer. God is all powerful, let His will be done. Not ours.]

the motions.

Her body is here.
Her motions--
astounding.
How brilliant she must be.

She speaks of riches.
She lends her hand to the poor.
still, this soul is dark.


Tis her God that she needs::once more.

find it.

these dreams seem bigger::
than life.


the city lights fade.
this place is dark.
the way of the path is unseen.


in the midst of it all::go.


go and find yourself.
these dreams-they will come true.