Remembering long ago summertime nights
before TV, computers, today’s cell phone noise.
Fireflies, campfires, bright star constellations
marshmellows and hot dogs roasting
fireworks displays, moonlight mystique
planet sightings, camp song singing
ghost story telling.
So much fun to enjoy
on the dark side of sun.
Expand, contract
like the thump of my heart in my chest.
It’s all cycles
the movement of planet Earth
in the silence of space
the seasons, the movement of tides
birth into death.
The drifting of tectonic plates
and love that we made.
The rise of empires
and the fall.
Like tulips returning
year after year.
Anticipation of the moment
followed by fear.
Every cycle within it contains
that this might be the last revolution
what if it never turns round again?
I could’ve grown up
with fire in my fists
and no softness in my tone.
Could’ve learned that power
meant control,
that women were objects,
and love was a tool to
gain selfish desires.
I could’ve laughed at pain,
mocked vulnerability,
and measured success by
women I slept with or
beers I could drink.
I might’ve dropped out—
decided that effort was weakness,
that books were pointless,
and teachers just voices to tune out.
My sentences could’ve been crooked,
my grammar a mess,
my voice too rough
to ever speak something worth hearing.
I’d slouch through dinner
like manners were for someone else—
talk with my mouth full,
interrupt like the world owed me attention,
never knowing respect
because no one ever
showed me what it looked like.
It would’ve been easy to go numb—
chase pills instead of dreams,
lose myself in smoke and cheap thrills,
run from silence because it reminded me
of how lost I was.
I could’ve seen blue lights in the rearview
more than stars in the sky.
My name on a record,
not a diploma.
Bitterness could’ve been my home.
I’d hold grudges like lifelines,
believe that forgiveness was weakness,
and that pain deserved to be passed on.
I’d sharpen my heart with revenge,
walk through life armored and angry—
afraid to feel,
afraid to heal.
Through the years,
blessings have found me—
in places, in people,
in moments I never saw coming.
Though none would exist,
not a single one,
without the very first gift
woven into my story
before I ever took a breath.
I became steady.
I speak with meaning,
listen when it’s hard,
and love without keeping score.
I stand when it’s easier to fold,
stay when it’s easier to run,
and choose grace
even when pain takes me down.
Yet,
you weren’t the kind to shield me
from every fall,
weren’t afraid to let me break a little—
because you knew scraped knees
taught more than padded walls.
You let me learn the hard way
when soft answers wouldn’t stick,
not because you didn’t care,
but because you cared enough
to raise someone ready for challenges.
You understood the objective was to
prepare me for the world
more than protect me from it.
You weren’t raising a boy to hide—
you were shaping a man who could stand.
You saw the worst I could become—
the worst I had to offer.
Still—
Never once,
stopped giving your best.
I have a chance
to be something more than
I ever could have.
I just want to say—
Thank you.
How comforting
To hear their voices
In the other room. Here,
In the den, my fortnight lair,
Penelope’s soothing tones
And her mother’s frantic
Replies are mercifully muffled.
Though I know friction ensues
To my ancient ears all is smooth.
I put Brahms’ Lullaby on my earphones:
So simple, a kind of heavenly
Humanness in purest form,
Like the rhythmic sound of water
Dripping on stone. I think
Of Penelope’s condition
And the world’s condition
Into which she brings this gift.
I feel for her naive self
And her mother’s weary worry,
But what is life for
If not to be lived?
note: inspired by watching too many episodes of Phineas and Ferb
This is for the ones of you, who feeds on posts about others.
Connection is not real when the conversations start with judgement.
The obsession about other people’s lives, only traps us in comparison.
You take everything I post as truth, and the truth I speak as threaths.
Maybe you should log off that box in the corner of the room.
I do not even care that you don’t like me.
My goal was never to reach you in the first place.
“The hallmark of a real man is controlling himself,
controlling his emotions, and acting appropriately
regardless of how he feels.”
–Andrew Tate
All I know is what I know
but what I don’t know
I’m wanting to learn
because if it matters to one,
it’ll matter to more.
Whether I’m momentarily silent
or currently speaking,
I’m always actively listening,
prioritizing never being wrong
over always having to be right.
Not that I’ll never be wrong
–a condition of one still learning–
but on the day that I am, I hope
you’ll be kind in correction
for our ideals are largely the same.
Some people never figure that out. (^)
Worse, they infest their way into
positions of influence and power;
whatever wisdoms they might speak get lost
in the trash opinions they surround them with.
Then when somebody calls out their immaturity,
they seem completely unable
to course correct; their minds too weak,
untrained in the art of self-perception
and…well that really makes me sad.
For as a man, I wish
to be seen as gentle,
one who will stand for justice.
Straight and cisgender, I try
to show myself open and accepting.
And as a professed Christian, I strive
to share the love of Jesus Christ.
In my calling to be His hands and feet
I could be someone’s first encounter with God;
squandered if I should decide to hate.
So if I step one foot out of line
feel free to tap me on the shoulder
and guide me back to righteousness.
Help me refine myself
for the most important role I’ve yet to play
when it’s my time to be the role model,
maybe not for millions,
but for one young boy, to teach him
to recognize the truth in all things,
especially if that truth is you’re right, I’m wrong.
Bubbles in your stomach
and a lack of whimsy in your bones
makes for a weak-willed man.
The kind that will not make the sacrifices
but stays ready to make promises.
The fear or lack therof
doesn’t define a constellation.
A consolation prize
to let everyone know
that you had what it takes
not to win.
