Polite Conversation

He vowed to remain positive all day,
Not counting on seeing her eyes that way.
They spoke in gentle tones in parking lot,
No harsh words, for they never have fought.

Each one unwilling to take that first
Step, the one that is clumsy, the worst.
They dance around each others careful space.
Keeping their distance, keeping their place.

He wants to reach out, take her hands.
But he can tell this is not in her plans.
Cannot force the situation without fear
That the meeting will create dreaded tear.

Finished, she drives off, he walks away.
Polite conversation, not much do they say.
Yet, there is so much more to be said.
Too bad it remains inside his head.

Advertisements

The Answer

What if the Lord has answered me,
Given the message to set me free,
And I am too busy pleading to hear it?
Maybe I need to learn how to be quiet.

Prayers, not only for personal forgiveness,
But also for those who bear false witness,
Those who have helped me in time of need,
The ones who’ll be there, fail or succeed.

Words shouted then whispered up to God,
Whose silent, but gentle answer seems odd
Compared to the man who struggles now,
Who talks and talks with knitted brow.

If I sit still, and in silence at that moment
Will He release me or find more torment?
It is something that I must finally know.
Truly, does she want me — or shall I go?

Palate of Color

Clear the head, the heart and soul
During the long hour drive in.
Rinse away the palate that is full,
Ask for forgiveness for daily sin.

Wandering mind and busy eye,
Focus lost on the desert scene.
Where does the emotional self fly,
Logic lost, what does it mean?

Parts fragmented in private conversation,
Talking to God and others not there.
Anger arises as does desired retaliation,
The only place the heart can freely share.

Clear the head, the heart and soul
Of all that is filled with reviled hate.
Add colors to the palate till it is full
To start the day refreshed, so great!

Hidden Feelings

There are no dreams as he sleeps.
The mind like a slate, left blank.
Only eyes that burn as he weeps
Leaving pillow, cheek, wet, dank.

Where does the pain enter from?
Plug the hole, fill the leak.
The emotional toll, final sum,
Leaving him tired, spent, weak.

Push on! Act happy! All smiles!
Fake it till you make it, so it goes.
Anger, resentment, pain in piles,
Overwhelmed feelings only he knows.

Why can’t he be the real person he needs?
Able to churn like a flooded arroyo.
Hidden feelings like new-planted seeds,
Wait to erupt like an active volcano.

God’s Love

Metaphors roll from his head.
Easy sayings, easily read.
There does not seem to be a good reason
For dark moods in the sunny season.
His heart, it does not break gently,
As wind and dust blow wildly.
All knowledge tossed for emotion,
Looking for some sweet magic potion.
There are no easy answers her.
Laughter, happiness, love replaced by fear,
All balled up into a single lonely being,
Refusing the One whose all-seeing.
He drops hard to his knees for prayer
Listening for answers that must be there.
Phone rings, a friend he was thinking of;
Suddenly he realizes this is God’s love.

Wait

Worthless and small is how he felt,
Spent and useless like a broken belt.
The pain from within masked over,
Broken with the loss of his lover.

She has crossed a bridge he cannot,
Looking for something, an answer sought.
Still he waits at the narrow paths gate,
Struggling sadly with the terrible weight.

Not even a whisper passes to his ear,
She does not love him, his greatest fear.
The sun sets and then rises again,
Still not a word from his friend.

The hour draws near and it gets late,
Yet he will stand and endure the wait.
Maybe she will not comeback, never return.
It is a fate he simply must learn.

Forgive

Laid awake last night in bed
With tempest storming in his head.
Voices cried out with wild fear,
Desperate for that someone to hear.

Forgive came a cry from in the night.
Forgive came that cry, it caused a fright.
Non-sleeper rose up and looked about.
The voice was from in, not from out.

He laid there, trembling at the thought
Was this the answer that he’d sought?
“First yourself,” whispered the tiny voice,
“in this matter, you have no choice.”

Crying out, he said, “Lord, please forgive!”
That’s why He died and how He lived.
A peaceful slumber came to him then
He found the Lord, he found his friend.