Open the book
Read what's on the page
But read it and weep
Because time won't stand still
Won't quit to play catch-up
We've got to run head long
Dive in
Crash through
There is only to tackle
No wasted breath
No room for error
How can drive be grown
In place of frustration/apathy/ignorance
What tools do I wield
To build the house
For a lasting home
Monday, September 29, 2008
Quiet
I know I have the best friend I could ever want,
But I ache with mortal emptiness.
It's a frightening void
Without shape or form;
I'm open to unwelcome influence.
I long to name it,
To embrace it until it's owned.
When I can wrap my arms around the nothing,
I can get it to talk.
I can lay down some rules.
We can agree or duel.
My soul can soothe and lighten
The damp, inky blackness of fear.
I don't need to be afraid,
But in being afraid
I shouldn't feel shame.
The two are mighty conspirators
Determined to silence the boldest heart.
But we cannot be silent.
Our bodies would be mere bystanders
In the massacre of our spirits, souls, and selves.
Silence is the bludgeon
Time uses to break our knees,
To hobble us into crippling inaction,
To press us into the service of those who hate us, at best,
And those callowed with indifference, in the most dire cases.
We will not be victims.
We will speak,
Though we may tremble.
We will speak
Over our fear and shame
Knowing that they are a miserable pain
Waiting to be drowned.
We will cover them,
And when we rise up from those waters,
We will know that strength,
Grace,
Hope, and
Wisdom
Are the fruits of our struggle.
And we will know
That fear and shame must be put to rest each day,
Each moment.
There is solace when we feel weak.
There is mercy and rest
For the timid heart.
But the refuge is not of bricks.
It is a lean-to
For brief respite in the storm.
The battle continues
And lest it worsen,
Or more seriously,
Pass over, leaving ruin,
We must leave comfort behind
And wade the deeps,
Walk in to seek those lost,
Dragged under,
More alone than ourselves.
When the ephemeral calm
Lays us to rest
We will have saved and been saved.
And we will know
It can be done again.
But I ache with mortal emptiness.
It's a frightening void
Without shape or form;
I'm open to unwelcome influence.
I long to name it,
To embrace it until it's owned.
When I can wrap my arms around the nothing,
I can get it to talk.
I can lay down some rules.
We can agree or duel.
My soul can soothe and lighten
The damp, inky blackness of fear.
I don't need to be afraid,
But in being afraid
I shouldn't feel shame.
The two are mighty conspirators
Determined to silence the boldest heart.
But we cannot be silent.
Our bodies would be mere bystanders
In the massacre of our spirits, souls, and selves.
Silence is the bludgeon
Time uses to break our knees,
To hobble us into crippling inaction,
To press us into the service of those who hate us, at best,
And those callowed with indifference, in the most dire cases.
We will not be victims.
We will speak,
Though we may tremble.
We will speak
Over our fear and shame
Knowing that they are a miserable pain
Waiting to be drowned.
We will cover them,
And when we rise up from those waters,
We will know that strength,
Grace,
Hope, and
Wisdom
Are the fruits of our struggle.
And we will know
That fear and shame must be put to rest each day,
Each moment.
There is solace when we feel weak.
There is mercy and rest
For the timid heart.
But the refuge is not of bricks.
It is a lean-to
For brief respite in the storm.
The battle continues
And lest it worsen,
Or more seriously,
Pass over, leaving ruin,
We must leave comfort behind
And wade the deeps,
Walk in to seek those lost,
Dragged under,
More alone than ourselves.
When the ephemeral calm
Lays us to rest
We will have saved and been saved.
And we will know
It can be done again.
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