I Don't Believe You Crush To Kill

I don't believe you crush to kill.
Because every time I'm crushed, I feel
you gently adding water and blood
To soften what had dried so hard
It might as well have died.
(Selah)
I laid right down; the weight of stone
Exhausting me. But through my groans
 I prayed for life, to live again.
You said "this just might hurt, my friend"
Because the way to life was first
To kill the thing that killed me worst.
The heart had to be broken, ground
Before my ears could hear the sound
of songs of deliverance, songs again!
You came right here, began to mend
with water, blood, you built me back
A soft, light heart, more foppy stacked
With every dream you'd always planned
for even me, once more began.
If I were ever going to know
That you are good, that you will show
me goodness still, I needed first
 the healing crush that hurt the worst.

To All The Desperate Hearts

I have a feeling that Heaven is closer than we ever knew;
that we will gasp when it finally snatches us up at how easy we were
to catch;
how instantaneously we
were changed.
That as we stare unblinking at the fullness of the glory we
had only seen flickers of here below before having to turn our heads
or be blinded,
we will instead be enlightened
to the fulless of sight.
Having shaken off these clothes made of thread, dirt, ash,
and all the weight that could weigh down a body, but never the spirit
tucked inside,
(though that spirit had often quaked from earth tremors and how near
the darkness once crept closely past
 even as we were hidden in little caves along the way;)
 that spirit now unhindered and suddenly exactly
 like the one to whom it is gazing,
and was always hoping to see,
was always trying
to understand.
For finally we will understand
that our tiny lives were always, always wrapped
in the strongest and lightest of loves
from before the beginning began.

I Still Believe The World Is Round

I still believe the world is round,
though it has caves that drop right down
to places dark, with slime and cold,
where souls alive begin to mold.
I still believe the world is round,
though I have heard the telltale sound
of wailing bird who's cry goes on,
yet never echos back the dawn.
Those nights when it is dark for days,
those days the nights and all their ways
have smash ground out my realest dreams
to fall right off an edge, it seems
that only someplace very flat
would ever answer up to that.
But even still, yes even here,
with no horizon very clear,
while scoffers doubt my mind is sound,
and whispered sympathies abound,
I still have hope it will be found
the world is still indeed quite round.
(I still believe the world is round;
I still believe the world is round.)

Melting Right In

The snow was the first thing to hit me 

when I walked out the laundromat door.

There I was, with a bag full of semi-dry clothes.

 I didn't want to spend another quarter and wait

in a place that felt skivvish because 

 there were people there, and their laundry,

which was already more than I wanted to know.

I was thinking these thoughts feeling hungry,

I was thinking of hang drying my things,

but rain that wasn't rain, it was slower than rain,

was falling, and falling on me.

 And I said to myself,"It's snowing!

 And it's landing on my little life."

Something brilliant and pure touching down here on me,

even me,

 and then melting right in.

Strong Jaw

You were born with a strong jaw.

those teeth were going to break through those gums

and chew and chew so that you could swallow

whatever you were fed

so that you could handle what didn't taste likebitterness or love,

or anything at all,

 break it down to it's elements,

and let it go, and let it grow you.

you were born soft, meant to be cushioned,

but with the a definied jawline.

A time called When

familiar to me, these winds and these clammers

these fairy like nymphs with their small handled hammers

the woods were not lonely; the glow was so bright

through the trees as we ran chasing peacocks. My tights

in my patten black buckle shoes tapped down the grass

the whole world was ours for the tender trespass.

 and there, past the stones standing this way and that

is where I last saw her, her funny pink hat,

that's where she left off this place, quick as light

and I haven't seen her since later that night

 She left all the way gone, leaving nothing at all;

my tights got too tight and my shoes got too small

in a land called before, in a time we called when.

 Now's winter, and I haven't seen her again.

Mud Pies

I can still see her, 4 year old me:
Dusty cheeks and hands,

with a little water

turning dirt into mud

in torn up worn up jeans re torn from the most recent fall;
new blood oozing from 

a scab that had been healing.

But everything was washable,

mendable, stitchable, and 

time was the same as eternity.

I still have a scar on my left knee.  

it's only a faded white line,

like a portal to 

the day I am trying to remember
when there was just a little hunkered down girl
with her mudpies,

and she  

was the happiest girl in the world.

.

The Rest of You

It was the morning after the mourning

but we were still stumbling over our suitcases, shy to unpack

 in a room already crowded

with furniture.

Some mornings, you're still mourning.

I think the secret is to take gentle steps, move soft,

leave things where they are.

Instead of our cases, let's unpack 

each other.  Open a window long left shut; still, stiffly it opens

just with the right amount of force.

There is hope here.

There is a light shining up from a lamp on the street 

below; it glows

just enough to keep us from closing our eyes.

Leave your suitcase where you left it;

eventually

we'll unpack drawer by drawer, careful to not stub our toes. 

 For toes are where the nerves end, 

and where the nerves end,

the rest of you

begins.

.

Inperceptible Lines

The daily unveiling's too bright for these eyes, the light

of this glory pure blinding.

To think that eternity hides deep down past our bones

with only this flesh as a binding.   

 we walk hand in hand through the halls of this building,

these walls echo back secrets mumbled;

there are things that we prayed and thought no one else heard in a building 

that one day will crumble.

 How this Divine weight can rest weightless on tables

where all of the bread has been broken;

A building's just dust, when you break it right down. But the people inside, we've just woken.

  Your carpenter's ruler can't measure our hearts, 

built together, then glued in between;

  Eternity sneaks into the pores, through the bones, and  right down

to the parts still unseen.

and that is the place you begin and I end.  And I end, and again you begin.

A house is just wood, or just brick, or just mud,

but these lines, inperceptibly thin.

Two Days Away from Forever

If we're two days away from forever,
Then we're too dazed
away from those days
Of the gardening sheers
And the neighbor kid sneers
And your elephant ears
That hear
Everything.
If we're two days away from forever,
Then we're to gaze away on the days
Of the muddy foot prints
and the soft peppermints
And the Christmas gift hints-
(This year,
Everything.)
If we're two days away from forever,
Then the two
mazes blending that day
will lead straight
Through the gate
Past the weight of the wait,
I've a will
To be still
Up until that day.
Cause we're two days away from forever,
and you are still too days away.

Tender Down Here

Lord You have pulled gold

From these embers;

Our hearts have been tested and tried.

I think I've been tired since September

And who knows how often I've cried.

But here's little me, still, surrendered

to follow your unforeseen plan

But Jesus, my heart is so tender;

So delicate there in your hand.

So as you lead on, please remember

I trust you but also there's fear.

Give strength to my heart,

 but be gentle,

For I am so tender down here.

Electric Car

You opened a door to let me in

then locked it behind me

and started to drive

along a road going someplace, somewhere

probably through a cave

hidden in the side of a cliff,

maybe around a boulder,

most likely over some hills, 

most surely through a valley 

with a babbling brooke where the swallows

swoop to sip swiftly before soaring-

(butterflies too, but they linger a little longer.) 

with a seat warmer below,

the sound of our singing all around,

(I like this song, the way we add our own harmony)

and a clean windshield in front,

(well, bug splattered, anyway)  

we could go far; 

We could go 

very far.

We could go

 all the way home.

(I like the way you drive.)

Whispers

How long

will we try to hold this down?
it whispers every time we turn our heads
that it wants to fly;

Some thing taking in hand

it's own self,

 says "enough, I'm fully awake.

 I am flinging off this coat, I'm done
with it's weight.

(you 

have left me undone.)

 I'm 

going to the top of the mountain."

each breath along the way just

inhale, exhale,
taking in, letting out, again and again and again
so empty, competely full,
all the way to the blinding white

past the blue
with a smattering of stars in the background.
(...was that a whisper I heard just now;)

Fire and Snow

The heat rose all the way to the top of the house
from a fire that had been lit below hours before.
That's why I could hardly sleep
and why I opened a window even though
outside, the temperature was freezing,
or close enough to freezing that I couldn't tell the difference.
But ( have you noticed?) the cold
 holds a still calm wonder;
the breeze like some kind of blended bliss blowing
up from quite a pile
of still snow
even while
 the fire inside also rises,
and here am I,
occupying the space between.

Perhaps

Perhaps it's just that easy
Only when the time is right.
(Those clocks will still remind you
In the blackest part of night.)
Perhaps it's just that easy,
When the time arrives on time.
(Those clocks will still rewind
you every time they fail to chime.)
Perhaps it never was hard?
Or it wasn't meant to be?
(Perhaps, now that you're older
than you were at 23)
Perhaps we should just toss the glass,
Let spill each grain of sand.
What's time, who's counting anyway,
When "perfect" was unplanned?
Perhaps it's just that easy-
In fact yes, it is somehow
And we'll keep being easy
Cause the time, perhaps, is now.