spirits dwelling place

if one could simply

climb inside another's skin

and see and experience everything 

that lies within,

behind these masks of who we portray 

ourselves to be.

we, trying to conceal ourselves,

are terrified of vulnerability.

if we let our guard down,

what would they see? 

i wonder if, we could show them

everything

and be fully understood,

would we have the bravery?

and

i've often wondered who 

i would let in.

i'd show,

there's a wild garden of overgrown

chaos woven in between the 

maze of memories i carry 

inside of my mind.

i would show the still dead branches

on the trees grey with winters sleep;

the biting cold air,

it chills you to the very bone,

and that hard soil appearing to be

lifeless through this brokenness revealed,

it was once a part of me,

now it is nothing but the distant echo 

of a faint memory.

but i'd lead you on, because these

things though difficult

will help you to understand me.

so, through vulnerability i'd let you see,

all the reasons why i carry ghosts 

everywhere with me

and these eyes they are still heavy 

from all the nights the deep blue

ocean fell from my eyes, 

when i wept in raw grief

for the one i've lost forever, and for

the broken girl i was.

i'd lead you away from that garden of 

death and sin and i'd let you watch 

as i pulled the key from the pocket that

rests over my heart,

sturdy thing though long forgotten 

amidst that reckless 

worthlessness.

i'd put it in the lock and you might

hear a sigh of relief as it opened up

the door to the next garden

we are left to explore.

this one is different, the light is not

completely void of that grey undertone 

but there's a hue of soft rose gold 

and yellow sunlight filtering through the air,

and the air,

you'll notice has the fragrant aroma of

spring rain and the long awaited

hope of new life.

now taking in this, the dark contrast of

that awful stench of near death and 

sickness reeks of fear and evil and 

it's hard to comprehend you 

did not suffocate in that garden we

were just in.

this garden is different, there's soft green

grass just sprouting from the tilled soil,

all the rocky stones of bitterness 

have been dug up and cast aside 

and now there's regrowth and joy gently 

tugging you to listen to the birdsong and 

rejoice in this life.

i'd show the contrast of my heart amidst

that anger and pain threatening to 

consume that girl so weak in her utter

belief she was worthless;

the contrast when you look at the girl

now standing, yearning, grasping 

for the life she has found in 

her redeemer,

now she's filled with the spirit 

and the joy of this healing,

letting go of sin and the weight of

bitterness. 

this garden inside me is now grown

in gentle seeds of faith 

planted by the one who is the truth

and i want to show how he has 

graciously nourished the earth he 

tilled up inside of me, 

returning me to him.

i'd show the faithfulness he has shown me,

in keeping his word,

 i have learned there is no deceit in him.

he has certainly turned my mourning into 

dancing, filled my heart with the deepest 

joy i've ever known,

showing me so graciously that the 

love of the truth 

was indeed always inside me.

he has made my soul into a beautiful 

garden filled with the scent of fragrant roses,

a gentle bed of green grass sprouting 

under my feet as i dance to the 

rhythm of my heartbeat and 

the melody of the sound

of early morning birdsong

as the golden sun rises 

every morning reminding me 

of the love and grace he as shown me,

this garden is his spirits dwelling place,

yes, he is inside of me.

so i'd show you the heavy sorrow

of that girl i once was,

revealing the despair and loneliness 

i was in will make it clear, 

the light and joy i have inside
 me now is the evidence of 

his deep love for all those broken,

his truth and mercies have

indeed changed me;

for he has redeemed me.

for bo

there are memories engraved

in the pavement of these streets

the salty ocean 

summer air 

carries the nostalgic scent 

of words of honesty

spoken on one of our

last nights of childhood;

pain and vulnerability yet,

perfectly laced with 

innocency.   

violet blue and red

cool toned lights reflecting

off the calm water in the bay

underneath the bridge we climbed,

daring each other to be brave.

two girls wearing their

heart on their sleeves,

dressed in all black as dark

as that overcast midnight sky, 

wild adventure in their eyes.
her and i were both hurting 

yet grasping, 

for the thrill and the 

beauty of feeling so 

fully and entirely alive.

i've wanted to show her, for the 

longest of times,what a perfect picture

i carry of her in my mind;

no photograph has ever truly captured,

all i see in that girl.

and i wish those mirrors didn't tell her,

the lies that they do, 

her beauty is not measured by 

what she sees in them,

for it's in the reflection of the eyes

of the ones she loves,

when they look at her with

grace and acceptance;

it's in the way they say her name,

with delicate assurance she means
everything to them.
words won't do her justice either,
but still i'll try to paint a picture,
of the life and grace i see,
when i look at her.

she, with her wild golden hair,
her genuine spirit as free as the wind,
that breathtaking contrast
when i see her
calm brown doe eyes and
those perfect constellations,
dusted gracefully
across her nose
and sun kissed cheeks.
i see a genuine longing for adventure
and yet a heart yearning to serve others.
i've seen her deep soul
and i've realized that
she's loved much more than
she's known to articulate.
she is a perfect picture of loyalty,
but yet not without reason,
she's held many to who she's believed
them to be, and i never want to
change like i had;
i don't want her to ever have to miss
the me i was, before anyone
else again.
that strong confidence,
she's proven to have in me,
it is so comforting.

i've seen the love and pain she's felt,
and in her eyes i've seen the weight
of all her burdens
placed upon her shoulders,
and though they are indeed strong,
the bravest thing i've seen her do,
is to realize,
that she needs others too.
to say i have faith in her,
feels like an understatement
and while i grasp for the right words
i realize i just want her to know,
how much i've truly loved her.

i won't let go of these memories,
this town so full of childhood and i
cannot forget the way we held onto
each other through the pain of
growing older
and venturing out into the world
beyond that innocence we had known.
i won't forget the names of
bo and denzel and the many
adventures that still await them
through a lifetime of friendship
and now, blood sisters once,
true sisters twice forever.

golden thread

longing, a wistful yearning
a golden thread of child's faith
woven gently
tugging along
the narrow path of this road
we are eagerly following,
graciously we've been
given
a golden cord of light
not unlike the simple
truth that's filled our
once stone cold hearts,
now burning amber,
thumping, thrashing,
beating to the sound of
this new life.

whispers in the dead of night,
when the darkness seems
thicker than that burgundy
blood that once covered us,
it can be so hard to hold
onto something
so thin and fragile
when in the dark there
appears to be no light
to reflect that
glint of courage,
showing us the way.

i'm aching for the ones,
when amidst the lusts that
pull at them at every side
promising a breath of peace
and truly empty satisfaction,
have lost their will to fight.
oh my mind screams, what lies.
this path may be narrow,
but there is an eternity
waiting at the other side.

what lies my
brothers and sisters have been
deceived and coaxed with,
when the accuser is so relentless.
please, i beg you,
pray fervently for the ones still
enslaved to the enemy,
the ones heavily oppressed
by his many forms
and many voices.
yes, he may be clever, but no,
he is not to overcome them;
not the Lord's chosen ones.

believers intercede,
for the ones lacking in strength,
build up the weaker ones in the
truth.
in the perfect light
we have found in this world so
thick with death and evil,
hold on tightly
to the promises we've been given,
no, we are never forsaken.

a gentle tug,
the thread is thicker now
the golden light reflecting softly,
subtle hues of smoldering
orange and yellow;
what beauty to see the eyes
of the long time oppressed
so filled with hope and joy,
that faith grown inside them
will not be easily shaken
no you cannot take that
golden thread from them.