Once,
while in winter years,
those of foundation-falling and rebuilding,
I was in my basement room;
and while reading mystic writing,
nothing too exciting, just Madame Guyon,
I was suddenly caught up
in a physical feeling of bliss.
Like nothing I'd ever felt before
it started with my core,
and with its sudden force,
my jaw dropped wide and stayed there,
I could make no sound at all,
my body slid, overpowered, to the floor.
It came as I was reading,
of His fiercely jealous love,
of how He will cover us with abasement,
to keep us wholly to Himself.
Now I understand a little of
the 'Ecstacy of St. Teresa';
however brief, it was a monument,
a lighthouse on the sea.
Once, I was in ecstacy.

Once,
when all my friends had disappeared
and I at God was angry,
was in my bed attempting sleep
but could not for the thoughts.
Lay in anger at my friends,
turned in habit to my lord,
and stopped just shy of speech.
If Him I am not speaking to,
and all others have defected,
I am alone - the absolute -
and shivers shook my bones.
What's cold went colder
the dark turned black
as a universe of emptiness
became a crushing power.

Quickly I called to God, forgiving Him, and
forsaking this brief atheistic haunt,
I have since not left His side;
I will never leave His side.

in my evolution to happiness
and to loving my own self
i've lost those who
shared my former insecurity
and loathing self;
how can one be so repulsed
by my new way of being,
by my freedom from a hindered life,
by my pure and growing joy?
so joy becomes coupled
with casualties and pain
like ying with yang
and black with white;
the greater joy
the greater loss
the higher prize
the higher cost.

Misunderstanding so often
and given to a secret scoffing,
I can not grasp the methods of worship.
I'm confused in seeing those
with hands up high and eyes closed,
singing out with face up.
Being one well-practiced
in more than just lip service,
I imagine I know better,
but song and dust-realm striving -
no dignity surviving -
may just be the payment of a debtor.
I forget our price, our cost
and that old beloved cross;
I see hands reaching heavenward,
voices singing to be heard,
and with these raised
I realize you are worthy of this praise;
you are worthy of our praise.

Watching me from the air of endless delight
I think you must watch me and smile.
The way I talk, the things I write, the way I think
all turning your mouth and eyes with joy.
I can’t get away from feeling your happiness
over who I am, and what I have become;
your patience for how I am yet to be.

My God, your smile, my smile.

Show me your flaws
so I can avoid the danger
involved in loving you.

Tell me your loves –
let them be of something
I can never be.

Help me shade my eyes
from the beauty I see in you;
beauty I’ve not seen before.

Help me hate the forbidden you;
help me hate you;
somebody help me.

Stupid

We all know how it is
to want to be stupid
if just for a while;
to choose sensuality over sense,
emotion over logic,
the short-term over long-,
now over forever.

Ah, the free life of the stupid man,
and so riddled with consequence!

Sometimes I consider the trade
of what I want and what it will cost me.
Sometimes I see life eye to eye,
instead of from a mountain’s peak.

Sometimes I just want to be stupid.

Good Anger

How tired am I and horrified
of this atrocious world.
Time and again reminded,
time and again reangered.
Idi Amin, Rwandan cleansing;
Sudanese camps, "famine";
international law created and unenforced -
the armies of enforcement too busy
conquesting for profit -
Hijacking Islam, hijacking Christianity,
hijacking anything of use;
Saudi royal terrorists;
Russian democratic facade;
making gain off the uneducated
and impoverished;
promising teenaged boys paradise;
brainwashing and bestowing weapons;
using every tragedy for political gain;
the White House regime.
When will the day of peace come,
when the evil get their reward
and the used get back what was stolen?
How long will we wait
for a new world order?

More than justice, we need peace.

Christmas Morning

Christmas morning
I'm up and at the window;
a most precious gift I see!
The sun is sitting
behind clouds aflame
on Mount Baker's shoulder.

I think how infrequent it is
that I can see the sun --
the spherical body of fire --
'less it is slightly veiled.
And even then I can't look long
'less I sacrifice sight of everything else!

Ah! Christmas veil;
glory e'er forsaken.
He became something we can see,
something to behold...
and believe.

Christ, my love,
my eyes are robbed
of sight for any other.

The Wind

The movement of the wind -
normally unseen -
we know by its effects,
hitting hard that which doesn't yield,
bending that which does:
its power and ferocity
its howling sovereignty;
it is gentle and embracing
it is nature's necessity;
yet unseen, a ghost,
'less it picks up the dust,
then we see its swirling power.

Would that I were the dust
that made visible the wind
Yes, carry this dust
as a body for the ghost.

The Sting of Death

the sting of death
poison injects
with purposelessness
and invalidity.
the thief of life,
limiter of love,
end of what is good.
cohort deceit to keep its hold -
disbelief its strength.
the sting of death
in truth and faith
is converted to
the joy of death,
if death at all.

Praise

O, praise the grace of our diseases,
praise the work of our afflictions,
praise the help of our suffering
in bringing us to life.
O, praise the condition we're found in,
put in, or taken out of;
praise the One who finds us,
puts us, or takes us from where we are.
O, praise sadness and madness,
praise happiness and nothingness.
Praise You who makes all things good
for all things are made good.

A Dream in the Dark Night

After years of tossing and turning,
seeking and finding,
living and dying,
restless all the while,
I came across my Lord,
sitting there alone.
Never met Him in person before,
but I sat there alongside Him,
and just had to know:

“Do you love me?” I asked, as innocently as I could.
“Yes,” He simply said.
“Really?” I dared to say.
“Yes,” He quickly replied.
Determined still, I spoke: “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” He replied in the very same tone.
I sighed, still slightly concerned

…paused…

and one last time muttered: “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” His sound beginning before the end of mine,
gazing down at His own Hands, unperturbed.

I paused again, to compute.

“Then no more evil, no more good –
that You love me is life to me, it really is.
I can rest now, here, in love.”

The air so thick and warm with easiness,
I lay my head there on His shoulder, all cares ceased.
“And one more thing,” His voice with passion whispered,“I love you.”

And with that I could sleep.

Give Me One Good Reason

In my moments of temptation
or when a teaser's sent to play,
give me one good reason
to turn the other way.

When I'm angry at your perspective
and it's more than I can bear,
give me one good reason
to maintain my solemn swear.

A million thoughts colliding,
there's chaos in my mind.
Nothing is true that was true
fifteen minutes behind.


Finally it boils down
when all truth is negated,
and "did He really say...?"
is what's left to be debated.

I recall in an instant
the first of man's rebellion;
the very same words convinced
the pair by that old hellion.

And in seeing such a parallel
I'm wondrously empowered;
the fruit remains there dangling,
but "no" makes me a tower.

Give me one good reason
to distrust my loved Creator;
to indulge is sweet and wonderful,
but His love is so much greater.

Bed of Confusion

I'm stretched out on a bed of confusion
like one of nails,
the weight of every want of mine even,
repelling them which probe.

Dare not toss or turn,
dare not curl up on my side
(though I want to),
I am on my back
and arguing in myself.

One who lies on a bed like this
does it not to rest,
but I am on it to find rest.

I am attached to these wants
as my head is to my body;
which one should I press down?
which part of me is useless?
I am stretched out on a bed of confusion
like one of nails.

Weight

weight oh weight
your time has come
to leave these shoulders bare
Loose your hold
fall away
rid me of my care

the danger
of shamelessness
is lawlessness
but freedom
with wisdom
is divine

Don't Leave Me Alone

Don't leave me alone
or without distracting busyness
for I will invariably wander.
I'll find the forest
where darkness will blanket me
and owls will sing me to sleep.
It's always the same,
when pre-occupation fades,
that you will find me there.
Don't leave me alone
or without distracting busyness
for I will invariably wander.

Abstinence is Easy

Abstinence is easy
when beautiful eyes
on a beautiful face
on a beautiful body
aren't asking me if I'm interested too.

Abstinence is easy
when kissable lips
on a kissable face
on a kissable body
aren't begging to know me better.

Abstinence is easy
until every reason in me
is turned into a question,
and I'm left wondering
why abstinence at all.

Abstinence is easy
until my right mind
is bent to hounding hormones
excited by the sight of one who'll do.
Anyone would do.

In a city of the gathering
of those "who'll do",
and of lips and eyes of torture,
I must keep telling myself:
abstinence is easy.
Abstinence is easy.

Can't Have Everything

When in my dips of disrepair
I think I see the truth revealed
as awakened from a trance.
But as I journey back to joy
it's knowing I'd forgotten that
which is higher in the truth.

Even so, at all times, I
am beaten with grave knowledge:
my life is ever limited;
my wants can't co-exist.
And so I must accept this cap
on how my days will fill me.

I know I can't have everything.

Backstreets & Darkness

We only hold hands on backstreets,
we're only close in the dark
and I'm tired of being afraid.

Dark is a hiding place
where sinners to their sinning
and no one walks on backstreets
where thieves take in their winnings.

Why are we among them
who need the darkness to hide?
I am not a criminal
who stole, or raped, or lied!

So,
take my hand on Main Street
I'll kiss you for the sun,
'cause I'm tired of being afraid.