Inside His Hand


When what my eyes can see is not reality,

When beautiful appears as Judas’ kiss;

When up turns out to sink like stones of gravity,

And all is chaos, I remember this –

No matter the confusion all around me,

No matter how things look from where I stand,

The God who reigns above, both pure and Holy,

Holds every circumstance inside His hand.


Let It Fall


Lay them down, let them slip

From bone-white anxious fingertips –

These pseudo-hues, these not-true-yous,

The ways in which you daily choose

To dress your soul in binary,

Faux your skin in finery;

When fiction’s tarnish falls away,

When forgery is let decay,

Your backbone rises plumb-line strong,

Authentic in its truest song.

So let it fall, remove that shell –

You’re beautiful au naturel.




The New Green



Earth worships Green –

Bows beneath leafy canopies

To the fountain of youth,

Sings praises to virility and supple strength

In cathedrals fashioned by fads.

But after life killed her chlorophyll,

Her true beauty bloomed;

Wisdom and resilience have proven

Gold to be the new green.


The Beauty in the Mess

ruffles macro

Within each crease, beneath each scar, and etched in every vein

Her petals form a tale alive with hope carved out of pain;

Though deeply marred, disfigured, torn, her beauty proves to me

The choice to bloom despite her wounds is what has set her free.

I read within imperfect folds a novel penned by grace,

For harshest hurts transformed, redeemed, become the very place

Where subtle hues and fragile scent, those glories forged by stress,

Release our truest, highest self – the beauty in the mess.



A Weather Forecast


Those days will come –

and then they’ll go,

with notable precision;

The rain will fall,

the wind will blow,

destroy what you envision.

But soon the sky

will tire of tears,

her raindrops’ stores depleted;

the sun will glow

with cheer once more,

and gloom will be defeated.