Lord, help me accept the things I cannot change.
The things only You can rearrange.
Help me be at peace with letting my chips fall where they may.
Let me get out of Your way.
Keep the inner tantrums at bay.
I should just trust and not try to persuade.
Though I’ve been on this journey too long.
I’m ready to parade…rest.
I’m pretty sure I’ve passed the test.
Now, Lord, can I please get blessed?
I need my feet caressed
from standing in the need,
and in the garden planting seeds.
I even decided to concede
and gave up positions so others can be on track to succeed.
Indeed, I’m being contradictory.
Pushing for immediate change,
though I know the history.
Thinking my contributions are by my own credibility.
He may not come when you want Him,
but He’ll be there right on time.
I just hope this is the last time
I have to deal with feeling
like I’ve wasted time.
By this time in my life,
I had hoped we would be discussing
what flowers will grow best
on the red plains of our next-door neighbor.
Cities would float in the upper atmosphere,
collections of platforms from which
a thousand vehicles could take us anywhere
between the stars.
Now I worry
we instead seek ships
to take us nowhere
as quickly as inhumanly possible.
We squabble these days
over blaming others for algae,
when we once dreamed of shooting that scum
across space to make room
for rootbound residents of earth.
We slash each other
instead of hacking the obstacles
that keep our futures from growing.
No black and blue buds
poke through early spring dust storms
that deposit dirt so rich
it might as well be lethal.
No space stations await us
over the next horizon.
When given the choice—
and even when not awarded so—
I remember the blooms
I hope to see images of
across the fields of Mars
when I think of how low
our species has sunk.
Mazzy reminds me-
to soften time,
to let your hands
persuade my restless bones
into stillness.
Fade into me.
Do not become another ghost
I must learn to carry.
Stay long enough
to know each quiet room
within me.
Let her siren hymn
draw you nearer,
until my name
feels less discovered
than remembered.
These wayfaring eyes,
this pilgrim heart—
so long acquainted
with the art of leaving—
ask for only this:
Fade into me,
until even the tide
cannot remember
where you end
and I begin.
I love to feel the ease
Of being in my own bed
Warm and cozy after a long day
Where I can rest my bones
Slide my legs between your legs
Curl my frame in towards yours
Sync my breath and heartbeat
With yours to create a rhythm
Close my eyes and drift peacefully
Into the comfort of home
If I should die before I wake
My heart, soul and love
Was all yours
In all the ways
To have and take.
Much as I might imagine
I throw on your sweater
and then I remember
feeling of heaven,
a passionate temper
Setting the table for
feelings to fester
Yet in a moment,
watering an ember
A loving, a fire
turned crackling cold
never gone, never weakened
Softened to a new, peaceful mold
I.
I hate the golden, gilded cage
you keep me in.
If I thought suicide was
a big enough “fuck you,”
that my aim was precise enough
to shatter your heart,
I’d do it.
I’m letting my pen bleed tonight
instead of my wrists.
II.
I wish you
the kind of despair
you instill in me.
For someone
who has been caged,
how can you deny another
their freedom?
III.
I don’t see a path
to the life I long for.
I hate you
and I hate myself.
I have shrunk
to fit this tiny life.
IV.
I feel like the child
who was born for spare parts,
an afterthought
meant to be a sacrifice for others.
V.
Bargaining with God
is going nowhere.
Maybe I’ll try the Devil.
VI.
Fuck George Bailey
and Frank Capra.
It’s a horrible life.
VII.
I can’t see a future for myself.
Does that make me a pessimist
or a realist?
VIII.
I have banged my head bloody
against the wall of effort.
I’m still not good enough.
IX.
Ignorance is bliss.
Sometimes I wish
I didn’t know myself
so well,
that my egg had never cracked,
that I was still sitting
in a closet
in the dark,
unaware.
X.
Hope is so fragile.
How do I destroy yours?
XI.
I will never forgive you
because you are never sorry.
XII.
I used to cut my skin
with car keys.
Now I know how to
harm my soul instead.
