I will not be deterred,
my heart will not be dissuaded.
This choice I have made,
this laying down of
what I have thus far known
and the taking up of
what I believe can be
is the journey set
before my feet.
The line drawn,
the curtain parted.
I will try,
I will see it through.
And if I fail,
          at least I have
                       dared–
                                    and lived.

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    Beat of Change

Change invariably comes,
             altering the regular beats
             of our lives into a
             strange new melody.
Whether it tumbles in
             as rocks down a hill
             shattering into unrecognizable
             shards all we once knew,
or as the tinkling of bells
             reminding us of something
             beyond ourselves,
             change makes itself known
in between the crevices
             and in the shadows of corners,
             hiding behind an illusioned
             world of predictability we have
laid deep within our lives.
             We wonder at it,
             try to understand its way,
             but how can you understand something
that is always remaking itself?
             Are we even meant to comprehend the
             chords of change and the turning
             of movements sung through
the strings of our hope and pain?
             Or is there indeed divine
             guidance within them?
             Surely change will come,
but the question is...
             how will you respond to it?
             What note will you play
             in the song of change?

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     Falling Up

When I hear your whispered words

Upon the cool night air,

I close my eyes and brush your face

To feel your love so fair.

The beauty of the evening

Is reflected in your eyes,

And the brilliance of the stars

Are straight from heaven’s skies.

Say those words again to me,

The ones I long to hear.

That you have loved me enough to die

Just so I’d be near.

Sing to me the song of grace

Created long ago,

Then I will look into your heart

And see the moon below.

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     One Day I Sat With the Wise

...And asked what greatness is.
For it seemed to me the world
was full of people well known,
full of talents and gifts
beautiful of face and
riches beyond compare.
Surely, this is what greatness is.
The wise sat in silence
and looked out to the sea,
looked at my face and said,
“This is what greatness is.
It’s when you have fallen
and get up again.
When you give everything
you have when nothing is left.
It’s crying all your tears
then finding a smile.
To go on when you
want to go home.
It’s following what you believe
instead of what others claim,
to dare to think– and follow through.
Greatness is to stand alone
yet being courageous enough
to stand united together.
It’s to see the vision beyond
what you know and
to realize there is more
beyond what is you.
Greatness is walking through the fire
when you could have taken a swim,

to do what is right and
not what is acceptable.
Greatness is to seek God’s face
in the darkness and when
you find it, to let all other lesser things go
and to hold onto him with your entire self.
That’s what greatness is.”

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     Carried in Prayer

Guided by the warmth of your hand
before our Father’s throne,
you help me take the difficult steps
I fall from on my own.
The words you say-
they blow me away
as you thank him while I’m known.

Overcome I bow before him
beside you soul laid bare,
for three have come together
in the silence we have shared.
Through your tender words you’ve shown
that you are here, I’m not alone,
when you carry me in prayer.

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     Smile-Maker

Tiny spoons stir
little amber waves
as the pot is poured
into cheerful hearts
thirsty for
smiles exchanged
over steaming cups of tea,
the honey swirling down below
amidst the depth of conversation
forming a cherished sweet sip,
a warmth to be savored,
laughter to be shared
along with the scones
dripping with English jam
and clotted cream
edged with English lace.
What a gift of life to hold
like flowered tea-cups in your hand,
knowing you will think of this,
and smile once again.
 

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     Value of Naught

Even a hole that is
nothing is something.
Though it has been
taken away,
its emptiness allows
the light within to
spill forth into the
world beyond.
And while the wood
burns, does it not
glow in glory,
sending forth warmth
and flickering brightness
to those who
walk in darkness?
And what of the dirt?
Is it not the very entity that
all things are
founded upon?
The trees and
all living things
find their nourishment
beneath them
amongst the soil.
These nonexistent and
dying things,
yet it is they I use to
show my face.
Can I not do the
same with you?
 

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     What is Art?

Art...
Dare you define it?
Is it line or color,
          a woman smiling?
          Architectural design
                     or the graffiti as it
          passes by you on the train?
Does it consist of
          oil paint or dappled glass,
          a Moroccan castle in the east?
Or does it have morality at all?
          Can it be good or bad,
                     mean spirited or made in
                                          righteous anger?
Art for art’s sake or something else...
Perhaps it makes people see
           something common in a new way,
           or it could be an invitation.
Can art be a green board
           reclined against the wall?
           What does that say?
Is it golden toned landscapes
                     falling down from their frames,
          or statues dancing in the paint?
There is genius to offend, to teach,
           to show us beauty we had missed.
What does art mean for you?
 

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