inception

   I had a dream long ago - 
a vision, if you will, 

     in which all the people
of the earth
        pursued and engaged in
  that which they were
               created to do... 

those inclined to create music
        created beautiful, melodious music, 

       those inspired to dance
                  danced with grace and fervor... 

those inclined to paint
         painted with all the colors
      under the sun... 

   those inspired to build with their hands
               built sculptures and buildings
        with great precision and grandeur... 

those given words and insight
      wrote with profound eloquence and wisdom...

  those with a special bond to the earth's soil
            cultivated crops and plants 
                      for both beauty & sustenance... 

nimble fingers
 sewed, knitted, and quilted 
                 brilliant fabrics and 
                     soft materials for clothing and warmth... 

    all working together in wonderful harmony and
              in such a sweet rhythm, 

        meeting one another's needs, 
                bartering their crafts, skills, 
                     & time...

   
   I awoke with tears filling my eyes
       from witnessing such beauty
    and from having to leave such a place... 

   
  Upon much reflection, 
           I now know that this 
is the very reason

           the world now makes sense
       only when 
I am in front of a canvas
            covered in paint...

   the reason I must continue to create, 

            to bring a piece of that 
    vision into fruition
                 
            here amongst a society
  looking only to make a buck,
              leaving all inclinations 
    & inspiration behind
         somewhere along the road 
between expectation
                        & success... 


  to inspire others to dive head first 
            into this vision,
                 finding their voice, their place, 
    above the noise

            & calling out to others
                       to do the same. 


    

through the eyes of another...

   Beneath these bright, 

         cloudless skies 

crowning this luscious, green 

     country

  I sit

  under the shade of trees

  that rest 

    at the foot of the volcano...

turning a piece 

  of lava rock 

       in my scarred

but lovely hands,

 I observe its surface,

      porous & rough, 

while a gentle breeze 

     washes over me, 

kissing my dark

  skin

     & rustling the foliage 

above... 

  I close my eyes

      and breathe it in,

praying that it

   washes away the 

scars in my heart

       & on my body... 

  I can smell the lake

on the breeze... 

Lake Kivu, 

    

    both beautiful 

        & haunting, 

where thousands of 

   coffee farmers

drown every year

       attempting to 

smuggle their crops

    across the border

        after dark

to do business 

     in an economy 

better than their own... 

  Sounds of bodabodas 

        & horns, 

    the bustle of the 

            market, 

  & children playing

           in the distance

reach my ears... 

   There is much 

to be done...

     cooking, cleaning, 

  & taking care of 

     my younger siblings... 

but I had to 

     get away,

if only for a 

      moment... 

 I open my eyes

    & my gaze 

falls once

       again 

to the scars 

    that cover my body... 

scars from a group 

      of rebels

that passed through 

      our village, 

destroying our homes 

        & crops, 

 killing many, 

     attacking & raping

me and many 

     other girls

    who couldn't get

away fast enough, 

      first hiding 

their siblings

   & children they'd born

from past attacks...

  The flashbacks 

        force me 

to close my eyes

           once again,

 trying to blink the 

       memories away...

 I take a deep 

       breath

& slowly open

     these eyes-

     these eyes 

holding more 

     pain

        & 

        maturity

than a girl 

    of fifteen years

 should hold... 

     I take in 

         my surroundings

      and 

      for the moment

      the images are gone... 

 I stand up slowly, 

      brushing dirt off my skirt, 

 and place the lava rock 

     in my blouse pocket...

 I thank the trees 

         for their shade 

    & solitude, 

      then begin my 

way back

      to the village. 

7:30am

[A morning in the life

of a Congolese girl]        

  

Reverie

A bird

hidden amongst

the trees

sings to me

loud & clear,


adamant 

that I

hear him out.


He has a beautiful

song.

admonition

   Embrace the moment.
       Breathe each breath purposefully. 
Realize that you are right
where you need to be... 
            that this very step
            is essential to the next. 
   Open your heart & your mind 
   to the lessons 
   waiting to be learned. 
               Close your eyes & listen
               to the answers
               waiting to be revealed.  

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.

  

advancing

12/30/12

12:45am

the tears

    reassure me

that my heart 
   
       is still made of 

flesh & blood

   rather than

ice & stone... 


   that I'm not 

       running away


but rather

        running towards

        something

   greater. 

nightmares

   standing in a wooden enclosure
         surrounded by little 
     smiling faces
                &
              hands grasping for mine.. 

 I recognize a few
       from the last time 
my feet tread upon 
          this lava rock ridden
               land... 

   the familiar colors catching 
my eyes
       between the cracks 
    in the walls... 

   the sounds of motorbikes, horns,
           women chatting at the 
      market, 
         and young children crying
drift in and fill my ears 
            from down the street...

     I squeeze the hand 
           of a little girl
 and stare into those 
    beautiful brown 
   eyes
before I walk through 
      the room... 

  I come to another 
       room,  
           crowded from  
    wall to wall
          with people... 

As I sit amongst the crowd, 
      I realize 
  something is very wrong... 

         men with guns 
are taking people at random
     out of the room, 
                never to be seen 
  again... 

           Outside once more
                    I am running

through the streets
       filled with holes, 
animals, 
     and crowds of people... 



   running, 
          running,  
               running... 



someone grabs me from 
            behind

   I let out a gasp
             before 
I recognize the face 
    very much out of 
                    context...

 we embrace
     & the newcomer 
joins me 

     as we set out 
           again



   running, 
       running,
    running... 




 I am the first
         to reach the center... 

I greet a very young 
      boy 
        standing outside

before I run 
      through the door...


  I immediately halt
        as I take 
in the scene.. 

        the boys hang by 
                ropes
    from the rafters 
        they built 
            with their own hands... 

  I run out of the room, 
         fighting the violent urge
     to retch, 

           tears streaming down 
      my face, 

         my eyes betraying 
                       my state of shock... 

  Again I am 
  


     running, 
              running, 
        running... 



I awake, 
   
   covered in sweat...

 a single tear 
          falls down  
    my cheek.





  

    

Seeing with my heart...

the backseat of my car
     reflects the state
               of my mind-

    a cluttered mess

 in need of an intervention,

   a vacuum
         and a trash bag

to remove the junk,
         the chaos of my
               thoughts

far from my skull

       which has proven
 reluctant

     to allow all the
        unnecessary thoughts
    that
preoccupy and clutter
     my mind

  to pass through
           its confines

   and clear my head...


     It has become
          increasingly difficult

to just sit & be,

    to see
       with my heart
              & soul

rather than
     my eyes
           & my mind...

    to rid my mind
        of the expectations,

   the "supposed to's"
                         &
       the "should's",

and let my free spirit
     be my guide,
  
       my heart be
my compass,

& my soul be
             my song...


    I must break through
       the cage that is
my mind,

         for my very
                life,

    the flame burning
        in my chest,

     depends on
        &
        demands it.

Learning from my 18 yr. old self...

Last night I was organizing some of my stuff that had been in boxes for months. I probably have 50 notebooks and folders that I've written and doodled in over the years. I felt like I'd come across a
time capsule.

I came across a notebook that I had written a note in the first couple months of my freshmen year of college. As I read through it, my 18 year old self inspired me and reminded me of what I truly value at my core.


    "I have so much dwelling deep inside of me. So 
many ideas, so many passions that I feel like I 
might explode! There are so many directions I want to 
go in, so many places I want to see, so many cultures 
I want to experience, so many needs I want to fill! 
What am I going to do with my life? I haven't a clue... 
I want to see people come together... I want to 
see true community, people loving each other, helping 
each other, living life together... living peaceably 
with all... working to better our environment and 
our world... spreading Christ's love to those who 
will accept it. I'm going crazy trying to figure 
out this whole life thing! I refuse to fade into the 
background, to settle for the ordinary, the mundane... 
I refuse to ignore this sense of purpose screaming 
inside of me. I want to make a difference in my 
world, here, close to home, and far, far away. I want 
to show people the beauty of life, how beautiful 
our world is, how beautiful people really are... how each 
person has something unique to share, to contribute to the 
world. If only people would realize this, our world 
would be transformed. 
So what now??" 

  This is just one of many notes that I found that capture snippets of the growth I've
experienced over the years. It caused me to start reflecting on the different stages/times
in my life, and all the ways God has carried me through each of them.

I have been reading through the Psalms right now, and this morning I came to Psalm 71:

In you, Lord, I have taken

refuge; 

let me never be put to shame.

In your righteousness, rescue me

and deliver me;

turn your ear to me and save me. 

Be my rock of refuge,

to which I can always go;

give the command to save me,

for you are my rock and my fortress.

Deliver me, my God, from the 

hand of the wicked,

from the grasp of those who are

evil and cruel.

For you have been my hope, 

Sovereign Lord, 

my confidence since my youth. 

From birth I have relied on you;

you brought me forth from my 

mother's womb.

I will ever praise you. 

I have become a sign to many; 

you are my strong refuge.

My mouth is filled with your

praise,

declaring your splendor all day 

long.

Do not cast me away when I am 

old;

do not forsake me when my

strength is gone.

For my enemies speak against

me;

those who wait to kill me

conspire together.

They say, "God has forsaken

him;

pursue him and seize him,

for no one will rescue him."

Do not be far from me, my God;

come quickly, God, to help me.

May my accusers perish in 

shame;

may those who want to harm me

be covered with scorn and

disgrace. 

As for me, I will always have 

hope; 

I will praise you more and more.

My mouth will tell of your 

righteous deeds,

of your saving acts all day long-

though I know not how to relate

them all.

I will come and proclaim your 

mighty acts, Sovereign Lord;

I will proclaim your righteous

deeds, yours alone. 

Since my youth, God, you have

taught me, 

and to this day I declare your

marvelous deeds.

Even when I am old and gray, 

do not forsake me, my God,

till I declare your power to the next

generation, 

your mighty acts to all who are 

to come.

Your righteousness, God,

reaches to the heavens,

you who have done great things.

Who is like you, God?

Though you have made me see

troubles, 

many and bitter,

you will restore my life again;

from the depths of the earth

you will again bring me up.

You will increase my honor

and comfort me once more.

I will praise you with the harp

for your faithfulness, my God;

I will sing praise to you with the 

lyre,

Holy One of Israel.

My lips will shout for joy

when I sing praise to you-

I whom you have delivered.

My tongue will tell of your

righteous acts

all day long,

for those who wanted to harm me

have been put to shame and 

confusion.  

  This Psalm helped me reflect of God's faithfulness, and the fact that no matter where I am in life (physically, mentally, or spiritually), He is right there, on the mountain top as well as the valleys. Like a good Father, He is there to catch us when we fall and will love us no matter how silly we are at times. He is the only constant in our lives, and He is Good, Loving, Merciful, and full of Grace.  

They call me Gypsy

  

 Raindrops cover my windshield,
distorting my view of the old 
          warehouse
                ahead of me... 

   I sit back & listen
        to the gentle
            pitter patter
 of the autumn shower... 

    Brightly colored leaves
stick to the dripping windows 
           of my jet-black 
       car... 

     It's been two or three 
months since I chose 
      to move out of my 
little cottage of a 
         house
and start living out of
 my little 
    Mitsubishi mirage,

couch hopping 
       from one side of 
town to the next, 
    from city to city, 

   rarely sleeping in 
the same place 
        two nights in a 
row... 

My back seat is 
    filled with canvases, 
easels & paint... 
    my studio being 
parks, homes, 
      or wherever 
I happen to be 
      at the moment... 

My trunk holds 
       the little leather
suitcase I 
    carried with me
to Africa this past 
       April... 

There is something 
             magical
    about this morning
as I look through the 
           droplets crowding 
my window... 

  the bright colors
         of fall 
against the dark, 
        grey skies

 bringing forth 
      nourishment 
for the earth

  & renewal
        for my soul.

growing pains

Wandering down empty streets
in the wee hours of the night,
navigating through
the fog & the coolness
in the air
as I attempt to navigate
the fogginess of my
mind...

my need for change and
growth
has not gone without
growing pains...

I take one step
forward
and three steps back
it seems...
as I let the fear of
disappointment from others
hinder me
from letting go
and moving forward.

On this sleepless night,
with the new Mumford album
filling this
empty building with soothing,
renewing melodies
and freshly brewed coffee
filling my senses with
bold aromas,

I am seeking
clarity,
newness, and
change...

"Instead of Worry" [from The Contributor]

Instead of Worry

Christ Scott F. 

Formerly Homeless Poet/Songwriter

I've walked the road alone so long

Pretending I don't see 

Acting like I didn't know

That you were always 

There with me

When I finally stopped running

When I'd finally given up 

I finally see the one thing 

That I needed was Your Love

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That God will take care of me

I'll have everything I need

Lord help me see... Help me see...

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That this is how it's s'posed to be

I'll follow you wherever you lead 

To destiny

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

Now this is all just temporary

You've got your hand upon my life

I feel like I'm being carried 

And I'm learning how to fly

And everything that's happening

Each new experience

Has already been written and 

It's all part of your plan

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That God will take care of me

I'll have everything I need

Lord help me see... Help me see...

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That this is how it's s'posed to be

I'll follow you wherever you lead 

To destiny

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

My Strength

My Fortress

My Rock

And my Shield

There's nothing more important

Than knowing you're real

I'm trusting you more

Each and every day

And listening

For everything

I hear you say

 

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That God will take care of me

I'll have everything I need

Lord help me see... Help me see...

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

That this is how it's s'posed to be

I'll follow you wherever you lead 

To destiny

Instead of worry I'd rather believe

restlessness...

     I look up 

through the morning haze

        to see the 

shape of an airplane,

     camouflaged,

soaring into the thick,

           grey clouds

above... 

     Oh, how I long to be 

inside that winged 

       capsule,

    heading somewhere,

            anywhere, 

far from here... 

    Yet again, I've become

restless, 

     ready for a new 

              adventure

in some unfamiliar 

        land... 

  The stillness, 

        the sitting, 

the waiting

     is killing me

slowly, 

     suffocating me... 

 I need a breath 

       of fresh air, 

cleansing water, 

    a strong breeze

to wash over me

       to bring life 

back into these

            dry bones....

a wordless morning...

     there are mornings 

when words

          evade me...

they dance around

       the far reaches 

of my mind

   just beyond my reach...

I try to rope 

         them in

     but in vain... 

   I relent, 

       embracing

a wordless morning

     to sit & be.