Fear not ... Love

Knowing it right to think "one way"
some run from truth for fear of lies
and dread the question lurking in
the wisdom, bright before their eyes.

How can one ever find the truth
when contrasts leap from open space
and shadows twist? They shift and move
when light, in motion, calls the gaze.

What answers beckon from insight?
What love would counter inner fright?
What hope opens obstructed space?
What grace will cause the walk of faith?

What if the answer of the soul
is lose the path and find the goal?
What if the way, the truth, the life
is not external? Inner guide ...

The narrow way is not within
the claim of knowing what is true,
or gifts of wisdom, sacrifice.
It's simply love ... as lived through you.

-----

If love casts out fear ... then how does an exclusive, reactionary, fear-filled life demonstrate love? In my experience, fear is the primary clog in the channel of ever-available love. It is only prevented by fear in my perception of God ... or fear in my perception of self and others.

Others will learn as they contrast love to fear, so fear not.
God isn't so easily overcome, so why do we fear he will fail?

Fear not.

We waiting-wounded drop our heads and moan - a poem

Beloved,
tied to weight of living
sink beneath the darkest waters
wrapped in ties of ancient history
gaping mystery of knowing
we waiting-wounded
drop our heads and moan
within the long-swept shadows
where starving wolves pursue
and ropes too long
yet stretched to breaking
weapons loaded in the heart
below the liquid-table ends

Life,
we watch distant horizons
for a reason yet to stay
stay
stay
and live a daylight longer
as the murky, clouding thought
sweeps amid the lurk of shaking
on the edge of what is not
that hope we wish
beyond this present
un-gifted
letters to departed solace
they do not answer our last call
lines too busy every moment
and next to us
the weary drown in desperation
still blinded as they fall

Love,
arises in the vision;
by the giving sparks flare bright
as our hands reach to the anguished
be the answer in the shadows
mystery of dark made light
we are the ones that walk in darkness
and now the eyes who hold the sight
our stories form the fragile healers
we, weeping, wear the tearing burden
where tears trickle through the gaps
in woven fingers in the night
reach the pain-formed network wide
to catch all falling, fragile souls
we hold the waiting, gentle warmth
the knowing is our simple guide.

-------------

My thoughts after reading Faith in a Dark World over on Registered Runaway.

You cloak me like shadows and wear me for storm-clouds - a poem

Oh! I can’t see you.

re-gifted heart
I offer you broken pieces
still sharp-edged for pain
that love you lost
I found it
   again
just missed you somehow
I would hold you closer
like chains and mystifying
lock-clear key
   rings
like earthquakes
tumbled church towers
echoes land-sliding to the sea
for nothing
   tolls

I have ever paid.

you … you … you … you
what you seem
in this vapor-filled dream of
   if-only
you’re everything and nothing at all
that I wanted and looked for
   when
I shopped all the world with my jacket on
because it was cold in the plain
where the sun rises
dawn in the evening rain

Four words I knew.

I would see you
again and again
and again ...
and again
here in the ocean
the moon-pulling waves
to a tick-tock ... calling
   moments
like sand still receding
through the glass
my melting clear
on the verge of a notion
that you ...
you and I ...
that we ...

It’s nothing.

You cloak me like shadows
and wear me for storm-clouds
I wrangle with lightning
and blind you in daylight
till moments have passed
and the reasons are ...
   fallen
to dust on far
desert tree-shattered pillars
you look so sky-fragile like jewels
in the distance
I seek you again
and again lava spews your face
from my eyes
and I cry mountain-meanings
of nothing from hollow
heart-shaped abyss
in the core of the circle
with no form
at the last

   then

I see you again.

I have a voice and I will weep

I've been holding this close because the words tore their way out of me when I realized again that my story is not the only one. I have a voice. So many don't. Today it feels important to let the screams be heard, somehow. I only have words. Will they be heard? I don't know.