This City-life

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God, give us the time machine
To show us what we hope to see

The way the wool would flow and float around
Our happy ankles

When we walked free and were let be
In the Garden, there

Oh, wear and tear and fibre’s snare
Since we’ve not tak’n good, good care
To guard against the urban’s grey
The droughted field’s thirst at mid-day

Lord
Please take this pain away

You’ve said they know not what they’ve done
And we forgive them, too
Each one

With prayer and hope
And You
We
Are
Made
Anew and clean

God, You are our Time Machine

Photo Credit: Lisa Mae; FieryPhotography.com

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?

Step Lively

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If you’re trekking alone in the dark
The train station within sight
Hope of home in your heart
Schedule unknown but hoping you won’t be late

Those obstacles in the meantime?

The throngs of strangers
The loved One who neither noticed you’re gone, nor cares whether you’ll ever return
A nearly dead battery and bank balance
Yesterday tethered around your ankles

Take comfort, you are seen

Someday, in 20/20 hindsight, find
A candle shone in some window
That beautiful soul, burned for you

The train leaves sharp at 11:11pm
You are loved far greater than you think
Now run, freely

And step lively





New Ocean

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A freeing, I imagine, is the gift we’d gift eachother

Leave the striving and othering to striving others grasping for some brass ring

Leave the grasping to the ocean waves that want more of the shore

A new ocean and eachother’s, I know…gold rings…free

a fortiori

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Why the grown hawk would struggle on
The wind
I cannot know

I've seen it, though
And desiring
To help things along for regalness sake

I reached up on high
In prayer
To see burden lifted, compass-mark found