The Good Day

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The expression,

“Thank you, friend, for your habit of breaking me

For stepping forth as straw-to-camel’s-back o’er my tendency

To give every ounce of me

— despite your toxicity —

That there’d be 100% in we

Unbeknownst to me, artificially

This Union, to me, most seriously

Meant the world, was my all, yet somehow saw me

Move from true joy that was ever deliriously

Full

Into trouble

Taking my sanity

And the strength of me

So that all that I am is now what you see

A human, who failed to live with the clarity

Of the value Jesus saw when He died for me

Here I sit

At curbside, calmed, and quietly

At His cross, listening, finally

To His voice and not yours, you see?”

has early — this Good Day — crossed my blessed lips, gracefully.

The Way of Tea

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Ceremony wouldn’t be
Proud of how I took my tea
Gulping gasping grasping
Reading leaves in light of the dark
Sanctuary stolen by twilight’s time
Beggar-made
Exhaustion knows no end

No, friend — never befriend
The enemy
The proof — look at me
Taking tea
Desperate degraded dying
The decades defaulting me
Standing on ceremony

Ms. March

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She, in her warmth
Feels without question
As a cool cloth to the forehead

The solar flare she wears
Increasingly into the night
Declares darkness no longer a dread
But a mystery to move through
Past the lesser light
Back to dawn’s delight

Revolve ‘round her
Thrive with her
She, in her warmth

Galactic Gale

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Would you, dear Earth, leave me to be, as I dwell ‘neath your blanket of sky

To taste, unattached by these gravities here, of our galaxy’s fervent hope cry

Relentlessly tethered, I helplessly feel that I cannot know her secret tales

Unless you calm-quietly, wait as I seek, reach, and grasp the next galactic gale!

Capital I

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I’ll invoke increasing ire
“How dare she,” they’ll surely declare, haughtily
“We want war — sacrifice is what she’s for!”

Cameras and courtrooms
v.
Chaos and cartoons

I’m irksome
Ironic, too, I’m told
Relationships of sinking ships
I Quit
I Quit
I Quit

Case of The Century
Grand. Beginning. Finally.
Me, at the center
See?

Interfering Waves

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I wouldn’tve known she wore a cross ‘round her neck
And fought valiantly to an end
Having said, “Thank you,” to the sea
That surprise-opponent-turned-friend

Would she have been allowed as many stars in her crown
If, for days, upon months, turned to years
She’d not put her pen down
To feel, then to tell — hostile witness, to interfering tears?