A Thousand Suns

so i wrote this poem on 3/29/10, in my dorm room during time with the best friend.

----
Part the willow's leaves
and come find me
in deep waters where I let no one rescue me.
But I know you hear my cry across the waters
You walk across to get to me

How did I find myself out here?
And forget what I look like, though reflections
surround me

I can't do nothing but carve my soul on the
driftwood, poor man's poetry
naked before the sun to dry, never reaching
man's eyes

But you bend down to read.

Is there an art to conversation?
But David's been here before,
and he testifies
that you know us, you search us,
you know our ways.

Peeling back the layers is rather painful,
but if that's what it takes to trade my
heart for yours, let the surgery continue.

You are so patient
with uglyness, so gentle to handle
rocks lashed by furious waters
so kind in the face of
monstrosity.
Still, gracious and compassionate
after all these years

My love, I will gather
in its pieces and brush them off dusty shelves
to give to you.
Please, help me give everything
I would love to trade
these ashes for your beauty
and give you something to move your heart.

Keep these eyes fixed upon you,
my master, my Father, my Lover
O to burn a thousand suns
with our passion
and let the world yearn for what we have

Could this be the time?

Arrest my heart, Jesus.

Secrets

Lord, if the highest heavens cannot contain your glory
Surely you can fill this heart, that is hurting

You sit on the swing with me on days when I can't find myself,
as we look over the view.
Your point to the horizon and say, "I am the bright and morning star. I've found you, now just follow me!"

And the secrets start spilling, like long-withered flowers
from my unwilling lips, because you knew there was more behind the tears
You always knew.
Of how he was never there to hold me, or offer a hand, or plant kisses
how I don't know what it feels like to be touched by him, except on that angry night

of the fairytale cage she placed me in, long after i stopped believing in them
never letting me in on her world, never stepping into mine

of how angry, profane rap music was my only escape because my heart didn't know how to exhale anymore

secrets
that show everyday,

when i can''t meet his eyes,
and the smile struggles to form,
and the heart breaks over and over and over
over the very same things

Lord, i can't hold them as secrets anymore, and I know
that you've known.
And I know, that I've grown

So teach me to cast forgotten flowers at the feet of the One who
remembers everything,
whose gentle hands were nailed violently
to free me from my past
whose gentle hands reached, for mine

I know I've looked across the seas and nations
to raise a battlecry and charge in the frontlines

but you've been sitting me down to look at this view,
that i turned my back on years ago
saying,
"Love, the restoration must first start here."

So I'll walk these splintered floors,
and retrace the peeling paint with my fingertips
with you,
watching you pour heaven over the old,
piece by piece, room by room
until sunlight spills from the cracks, and I can finally walk out with you.

Healing rain is falling down,
I'm not afraid.

Psalm 23

sometimes i'm afraid
to ask for love, for i feel like
i'm wasting time--
like there's so much that needs to be done,
and time is falling away so why would i
sit here in the silence

but you keep beckoning me to sit by the water
and drink slow, and drink deep
to take a moment and inhale the breeze
that makes its way across here.
for green pastures are for laying down on,
for resting and feeding
where you can hide in the tall grass with nothing but blue
above you, and yawn melodies between breaths,
heart at peace and content.

i hear you sing above the quiet waters,
watch the flowers bob their heads in the wind
and sigh with a sparkle in my eye.
You take me here, to restore my soul.

Hands

i never knew hands until
mine became as calloused as the branches in winter
trying to block the rain and the sticks and the stones
fingers etched in cuts, palms dark with bruises
falling backwards, shielding my face, my heart with desperation

never knew hands until You took mine in both of yours
and the war ceased, finally, after years and years and years
of heaviness that chains could not sound
of crimes the soul dare whisper once
you take my hands, and i'm crumbling

wanting to fade into the darkness but you say,
Hey, look at me.

and in your gaze
every single fear i have ever known is swept away

this feeling,
like morning
like knowing dance, knowing song, knowing freedom
without moving a muscle.

Who has stolen my heart

i know a painter
who loves slow sunrises in winter
and white in darkness
takes blue and reflects it on sea and sky
he makes it work

i know a singer
who gets the universe to sing along
gets thunderclaps as percussion and angels' wings
as harmony
sings the wild wind to stillness

i know a dancer
who has stepped on sea, sky, and fire
zeal uncontainable as spring rain,
rhythm unpredictable

i know a prince
who doesn't have a white horse,
but a crown of thorns
traded royalty for savagery, cause
he fell in love with those on death row
married us into the throneroom

i know a warrior
who makes darkness flee at the whim of his presence
stared death in the eye and swallowed the grave,
for me
bled profusely, bore scars
for my ransom, defeated the entire army of hell with a lover's heart

i know a father
who watched his own son die,
to hold prodigals as close as his very own
who has my name graven on his hands and heart,
and will never leave me.

i know a lover
whose felt every bruise and cut and breaking
of this heart, waited for me to
return from prostituting myself, only to
bandage my wounds, and tell me that i am beautiful
and he is faithful to me

I know Jesus of Nazareth,
and he has stolen my heart.

For a stranger.

so i have an essay due at 5 pm and i just pulled an all-nighter and i only have the intro but...

this was written while i was listening to matt gilman- closer
and thinking of a certain stranger i met the other day.



---

you have a place for him
that only your eyes have seen,
and his heart could contain

there, the flowers pour fragrances nostalgic
of your memories together
he begins to sing the song for the first time,
the one you've put in his heart all his life, that he could only hear
in his dreams

his name has been graven on your hands since the start,
his name has been written on your heart

though he doesn't know now
the way you see him,
the way you hold him,
the way you love him

you will fight for the one that has strayed from the 99.

he is bruised from the inside out,
with a weapon for a heart because
bombs have been raining down
for as long as he has known
limping with every step for the silver lodged in his knee
and memories that burn a little deeper
he spits at the mention of your name

but you have conquered death and purchased life
to fix his broken heart with your hands
and live inside the coma, breathing mercy into crumbling corners
pouring love into the cracks, til your tears are running too

you love him.




the apple of your eye,
the fire in your heart,



the son whom you made to be free, free, free.

thoughts

staring into white-washed walls as if they'd
burst into design at any moment,
flares of orange and tattoo parlor lines
sprawling the expanse,
painting roman cathedrals,
reverse formulas
and old records on the blank canvas

staring into days when clouds swallow the sky
or nights when computers hum louder than crickets can sing
into ceilings with bumps like dull icicles
crosswalks that feel too wide, and white lies
that lay quiet on the floor somewhere

white walls illustrating
ocean hugging sand, and music that flows through veins
acrobats dancing in air effortlessly,
pieces of advice in time-machines.

but they don't burst into color,
spill, swirl or sweep the corners
into something artistic.



white-washed walls still the same,
still white,
painting over
your company.

between breaths

one look and you pin me to the wall
fingers fire and ice
please, don't be cruel.

and not to be crude,
but there are days
i shoot up your beats
into these veins, and the notes speak
to every signal in my body.

one touch, to close eyes for hours
skin like desert drinking in a storm-
what is wine.

the way you weave words,
two like a sling stone to goliath, three to make soul pound against body.
colors flung on blank canvas,
wild and beautiful, you hide it.




and what does zealous sea say to sand, inviting but never able
to keep? salt lingering as the waters retreat



God, teach me to swim.





she'll have a palette to match
a night sky filled with constellations in conversation