His Presence

1/29/13



     there is no 
           part of the forest
   more alive
         than this one

    at this moment... 

         the birds flock 
    to him, 

         this solitary boy
    with his guitar
          singing praises
   to the One 
          who created 
   this sacred place...

       they sing along
              with him 
   to the Song... 

     on this bench 
          called "No Regrets"
          I sit
     as He stirs my 
             soul, 

   romancing me, 
         showing His great 
     love for me, 

          His unconditional love, 
     of which I've 
              never deserved...
      

beneath grey skies...

  Underneath these grey skies
            I rest
     looking out across 
                the tree tops
     bare & lifeless... 

      birds small & large 
           sing to me
      their winter melodies
             while hiding
        behind roots
                 & limbs...

       they sing to me 
                 of distant lands
           from whence
                 they fled
    when the cold air 
                 descended... 

    they sing cheerfully
           on this warm, 
                grey Tuesday... 

  perhaps the mild day
           has fooled them 
      into thinking 
             that Spring 
is right around 
             the corner... 

 that sunny skies 
        & the warmth it brings

 both to the earth
          & my soul

 has come early
       this year... 

Oh if only it
       were so!

How I long to bask 
       in fields of green 
grass & brilliantly 
       colored buds

under the harsh
     rays of sunlight
darkening this now
   oh so pale skin... 

 Oh how I long 
        for this cold, 
  lifeless winter 
      to be but 
an ever fading 
          memory... 

  Dear feathered friends, 
      let it be so! 
Sing to me
      of newness
  & life

     teach me to sing
            once again...

 Cool breeze
       course through  
 my hair

    & clear out 
 all the thoughts 
      that 
  crowd & cloud 
      my mind... 

  swaying trees, 
       teach me
  to dance again... 


 

metamorphosis

  It is incredible
       how much the sky
changes
   in the hour 
               the sun
        travels 
from far below 
                  the horizon           
to spread its rays
            across the earth

    forcing the darkness back
          & bringing in a new day... 

  displaying more colors
          than i could
                 hope to record

  & radiating warmth
        through the cold air
and my ever-searching 
                            heart...

unveiled elegance

    today is my first day
         wandering this place
      since the leaves fell... 

        the crisp winter afternoon
 leaving the trees bare, 
       reflecting pure gold
   beneath the bright sun

         contrasting against 
     the cloudless
             pale blue sky...  

    the magic & mystery
          has remained
      even as the 
            foliage passed away
                & 
       the deer all but disappeared 
                 from view... 


    there is something beautiful
               about the naked limbs
     cascading over 
                   the dark, glassy lake...

    the vulnerability,            
            the unveiled elegance... 


 a solitary raven
            soars high above
     the water, 

            higher & higher, 

 taunting me, 

      beckoning me
                    to come...


   then disappears
        over the crest of the
   far hill.

Winter Blues

    how easy it is

         to look 
            without seeing,

  hear 
     without listening,

                eat and drink 
                 without tasting,

        touch 
           without feeling... 

   to become only a shell
              of the person

               you once were. 

fan the flame

1/11/13
1:00am


   Sometimes I forget
              the fire
 that burns inside
                     my chest... 

Every day life, 
             expectations, 
  the fog, 

      the complacency 
                 that surrounds, 

  they all creep 
        into my 
   subconscious
                 and 
  
     I neglect the flame,
leaving it 
       a mere ember

      and leaving me

                     numb. 


   But then I remember
            the insatiable 
            fire
                   roaring from 
the depths of my soul...

   the energy, 
         the passion, 
     the potential, 
the determination

      betrayed by 
the gleam in  
     my dark green 
           eyes... 

    the slight 
         upward curve 
of my lips
      only hinting 
   of what lies beneath..     

      at times
         the flame 
      grows so strong
      that

 I wonder 
       how my small 
   frame will 
          contain it. 

  It is then I am 
        reminded 
to always 
        remember

             the fire

that lies 
       within... 

never to take 
    it for granted, 

    and to continue 
         to fan the flame

until the day
         it flickers

and is 
extinguished. 
  

Old Haunt

in this little 
      coffee shop

squished between 
      the Hermitage
Home Depot 
         & Lowes

    I've spent more
  time
      than any house
I've ever lived... 

   It was here 
         I spent hour
 after hour
      reading, sketching, 
  writing, working... 

    talking with 
           old friends
       &
  making new 
                 ones... 

   It was here 
         that I broke up 
with my 
     high school 
  boyfriend

and spent
       the following 
   weeks
       adjusting 
to single-hood

    and eventually 
embracing it... 

   here I     
     deflected 
many a 
   creep,

   chatted with 
lonely old
      men 
         & 
    women

  frequenting 
       this 
caffeine 
      sanctuary 

 hoping for a 
        sense of 
familiarity...

   It was here 
my dad
      chose to 
visit me

  like some 
cold business 
        meeting...

  here 
     I acquired 
the taste 
    for my coffee black...

   here I escaped 
        from the 
suffocating walls 
     of the 
  small Christian
        college I attended... 

  It was here 
        I began 
to challenge 
    the way 
         I'd been taught 
  to think
       about the 
    world
       & 
   about God... 


  and though 
      I've traded
this old haunt 
       for new ones
  in the heart 
    of Music City, 

  it is here 
      that I come 
to reflect
      on all the 
  things that 
       make me 
who I am 
     today... 

  It is here 
       I still 
escape to... 

   here I feel 
home. 

the refuge

    high in the trees
            there is a place, 

a refuge, 
      filled with vast walls
  made of glass

      where the birds keep 
one company 
          & the squirrels oft
     swing by to say 
            hello... 

   where sunlight 
              filters in
         casting a golden 
    haze throughout
              the space
    like some divine
              vision... 

It is not a house 
       but is indeed 
a home- 

  A place to find 
             rest 

  & commune 
            over
        bread and wine... 

  a place of 
      weighty conversation

where books 
          tower high

 & jazz music
         dances around
    the enclosure...

   not a house

   but indeed 
            a home. 
          

propriety

  It would be 
       more acceptable

to speak of

        the long nights
              downing coffee, black
      or brandy
          on the rocks, 

 the days spent 
        skipping showers, 
   shaving, 
        and clothing, 

        running around the 
              house
       in my underwear 
      
  baring every tattoo
                   and freckle,

  or surviving 
       on a diet 
of bread and almonds
       for weeks

   all for the sake of my craft


had I only been born 

a man. 

Morning Glory

  I sense the sun
         before I see it... 

My eyes open 
     slowly 
  to take in the 
        warm light
filtering in 
     through the 
  closed blinds... 

 I stretch out 
      on my back 
warding off 
   the lingering 
      haze of sleep... 

 I make my way 
     down the stairs
of this new house
       of which I am 
  merely passing 
       through... 

always passing 
     through... 

 I grind up 
    the cheap 
       coffee beans
I find in 
     a cabinet 

  and put a pot
on to brew... 

   I lean against 
the counter
      and glance over 
at the gorgeous 
        piano
 beside the staircase... 

I walk over 
      and sit at the 
bench 

    running my fingers 
over the 
      smooth ivory keys... 

  I begin 
      to play 
a familiar 
     tune... 

Beethoven's 
          Fur Elise 

   My fingers 
dance 
    up and down 

the familiar keys

   sending notes
beautiful & haunting
        through the 
otherwise empty
                 house... 

the hardwood floors
           & high ceilings 
 provide incredible
     acoustics...

    
    I move on 
to another 
      familiar tune... 

      an old hymn, 

Come Thou Fount... 


     again my fingers
glide up and 
          down 
   the full length 
of the piano... 

    the notes loud 
and clear

     full of energy

I let the 
      last notes

linger... 




     looking up 
I see my 
        reflection
  in the 
      glossy black 
finish... 


     I am a ghost
           in the reflection
of my 
   beautiful piano.  

new year

  the crackles & pops
        of fireworks

left over from
     the night before

  pass through the
              glass
in muffled spurts...

  mason jars are scattered
across the room,

    remnants of champagne
lingering at the bottom of
           each one...

   books and journals
          cover the tables
      and floor...

  a map of the world
                lies in one corner,
marked with destinations
     for future
         adventures...

ashes are spilled out of
       the fireplace
   and onto the brick

below stockings still
             hanging...

        a hauntingly lovely
              piano and violin duet
     breaks the silence
         filtering through the room
 from a little speaker

       as we say our goodbyes
               to last year
    and welcome the
                 new one.