“The Currency of Grace”

Surprised to see the a.m. sun
Afire
Shining through
The door I’d forgotten I’d opened
Left open
To remind myself I’m alive
Praise

A part of this world
Apart from this world
And out of this world, too

Anyway, first, foremost
Tending to all the green
I thought to stop, I felt ashamed
Guilt
For all I’m giv’n, undeserved
But, my friend told me the currency
Grace

California, Again

It’s Winter when he does this, so I buy myself time and find flowers somewhere. Color-filled, with thorns that draw my blood which proves I’m alive and not here to stay quiet and blind. These flowers, I cannot help but clutch them in desperate remembrance that it’s Summer somewhere. I was born in the Summer.

My Speech

I never received my concocted potion

The one I’d ordered, for I’m an adult

May it stave off the foggy notion I’ve forgotten who I was growing to be

I’d ordered it to compliment my life

I mean -balance my meal

That’s what adults say, don’t they?

It’s okay, the delay, but bring it, damn it!

Said with a smile that hopefully hides

My slight disgust with myself for wanting, no -needing- the potion at all

Bring it

Before I am faced with the oh-so uncomfortable

To leave here bright-eyed and examining

My un-slurred self-talk

My speech