Other things I thought about:
I bought sky blue chalk
The color of Fredrick’s eyes
From the dollar store.
I wrote his name on cement
With arrowed hearts around it.
I put traffic cones
Up to keep what I had drawn
Safe from foot traffic.
Sweaty soles and dirty boots
Shall not stain his blesséd name.
I no longer believe You want what’s best for me.
Your Will, not mine.
I get it.
I still cannot understand
what You are doing.
If You are a Father,
why does it feel like everything I lean on
keeps giving way beneath me?
Why do the doors close
right when I finally gather the courage
to walk through them?
Why do You place desires in a man’s heart
only to leave him wondering
if they were ever meant to be pursued at all?
Was I wrong to hope?
Was I wrong to believe
that obedience would bring peace?
Was I wrong to think
that drawing closer to You
would somehow make the path clearer?
Because the closer I get,
the more questions I seem to find.
What am I supposed to do
when every direction feels uncertain?
What am I supposed to think
when the things I worked for disappear?
When provision becomes fear.
When confidence becomes doubt.
When purpose becomes a question mark.
Do You see how tired I am?
Do You see the nights
spent staring into the dark,
trying to separate Your voice
from my own imagination?
Do You see how badly I want to trust You?
Because I do.
That’s what makes this so difficult.
If I didn’t care,
I wouldn’t ask.
If I didn’t love You,
I wouldn’t wrestle.
If I had truly abandoned faith,
I wouldn’t still be speaking to You now.
But I am.
Still here.
Still questioning.
Still knocking on a door
that sometimes feels locked from the inside.
Tell me—
What am I missing?
What lesson have I failed to learn?
What part of this story
can I not yet see?
And if this pain has a purpose,
how much longer must I carry it
before understanding arrives?
I am not asking for riches.
I am not asking for comfort.
I am not even asking for certainty.
I am asking for enough light
to take the next step.
Enough clarity
to know I am not walking alone.
Enough assurance
to believe that my suffering
has not been wasted.
Because despite everything,
I am still here.
Still searching.
Still waiting.
Still calling Your name
into a silence I do not understand.
And if I am wrong about You,
if You truly are working for a good
I cannot yet comprehend,
then please…
Show me.
My faith is not completely shattered,
but it is desperate
for an answer.
2000 mg of amoxicillin sit in a drawer mockingly
awaiting monday, when i must take them to them
to simply have my teeth cleaned
it is funny the domino effect
of being born ill
the tooth-heart connection
bloodstream travel fast connecting
every corner of me, too intimately
making any move quick death, misstep
from tattoo, to car ride, to dentist appointment
My best friend from college
and I
ride north to the dispensary.
Something neither of us
was interested in
back then.
He fidgets with his wedding ring
and he drives a different car.
I have three kids now
and I seldom frequent a bar.
We both have wives now
and calendars—
more complex lives.
Between the man I love most
the closest thing I have to a brother
and myself
there are still no awkward silences,
hurt feelings, or resentments held.
Fourteen years of friendship
some grey hairs now
wrinkles starting to line the face
and yet at their core—
some things never change.
From beaches to plains to snow-capped slopes
He travels it all
Foreign terrain is a challenge easily accepted
Where disaster strikes are destinations
A new place for this cowboy and his mare to lend a hand
Deliveries and repairs exchanged for shelter and a home-cooked meal
Days are filled with grueling restoration
Nights with music and drinking
But once the rebuilding is complete
The nomad moves on to the next
Community fades to fond memories
As the sure-footed buckskin sets on a new path
Patiently ambling to the next abode
Content with the solitude in the meantime
Of a man and horse whose greatest friends are each other
In an effort to not set off the fire alarm
in our shared accomodations
I find myself manhandling a toaster
at 6:30 in the morning, fighting
a stray burning sliver of English muffin,
jabbing a utensil, upending, jostling,
praying for silent
resolution
decades of learned self hatred
morphed into neutrality
and self-love ever growing
still embodying old habits
of what i felt i didn’t deserve
kicking myself to the curb
before uttering a word
embarrassed as a share
what gives me life
the essense of joy
shame crept so deeply
into each crevice of my mind
in places i never thought to look
no one ever told me
that you can love yourself
but still not live it
breathe it
choose it
every day
loving myself
and acting all wrong
