It was
when I was
dust
that
I was
given the
embrace of life,
so I cry
into the wind,
“I can
scarcely
wait
to be
dust again.”
Category: poetry
Touchstone Tuesday: Poem XV
Your fingers
are flowing heat,
and I smile
as I wince,
when
the flames
rise
to lick
the back
of my neck
Cause
It is
chronically
exhausting
to care
for causes
and to
carry the burdens
of other hearts,
but it isn’t
nearly
as dangerous
as not.
Poetry
In the
tedium of living,
poetry is
a fleeting spark —
a moment of
raw intensity.
Rescue
You captained
the most successful
rescue mission
this world
has ever seen,
leaving
no part
of me
unsaved.
Firestone Friday: Poem XIX
But how
many times
will we
create people
in a moment
of love
to live
in a world
of hate?
Senses
I’m not
blinded
by love;
every single
one of my
senses
is gone.
Dust & Shadows
You are
the only one
to love me
hard enough
to stir the dust
from my heart,
to shake
the shadows
from its corners.
Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem XIX
The thing
about being
tested
by fire
is that
you walk out
with ashes
at your feet
and flames
at your fingertips
Touchstone Tuesday: Poem XIV
It is when
I am
burdened by work
and
buried by projects
that I am
— very reluctantly —
at my
best.
Faith, Health, and Other Musings 