The Last Goodbye

Goodbyes, I do not like goodbyes.
“Goodbye” to those I love − it hurts.
To you? Well, I never wanted to say “hello,” to you.
 
Imposter, you try to make me believe a lie.
But you are not my family,
you are not my friend,
you are not my love,
though you have tried to be all of these.
You cleared out a place at my table for yourself,
but you have no right to be here.
 
Go away, just
go and don’t come back.
From the first forbidden hello,
I am hoping and praying
this will be the last goodbye.

Trick Flower

The most destructive things often start out as something so small, that we think it is harmless, or even pretty. That is a dangerous and destructive miscalculation, but not entirely hopeless, if we want to escape. Even ashes make good fertilizer for better things. 


Trick candle,
pretty candle.
Won’t go out candle.
My own forest fire −
from a candle.
 
I thought I could blow you out.
You were a candle, after all.
But you planted your wick
very deep.
I could not blow you out.
 
(Forest fires often have small
beginnings.)
 
But
this morning I saw clouds
painted with sunrise.
Tonight I saw a tiny sliver
of silver moon.
 
You were not expecting that spring beauty
to bloom, were you?
Neither was I.
But I’ll tell you what −
it’s a beautiful flower.

Comprehension

How dare you say that you understand?
you are Jesus, the Christ.
you are perfect,
you always have been perfect,
you always will be perfect.
your love for me is foreign already, but your understanding?
Ludicrous.
 
I am a mess.
I always have been a mess.
I always will be a mess.
How could you possibly know what it means
to be helpless and without hope −
alone?
 
you’ve never been separated from your father,
your hearts are carved
from the same living stone, you could probably
time his heartbeat
by checking your own pulse.
 
I have never heard my dad’s heartbeat.
 
You say there is nothing
I’ve suffered that you haven’t
also borne and yet it’s your father who said
“This is My beloved Son in whom
I am well pleased.”
 
Every single step of your life −
Beloved.
his power through your hands,
his character through your own,
his face −
always shining toward his beloved son.
 
Even at the cross, right? I mean
you guys are two peas in a pod, there’s no way
your dad would leave you when you needed him
most.
 
You gotta be kidding me nobody ever
told me about that part. That’s not supposed to
happen God can’t just split
apart what doYou mean He turned His face
away?
 
You are perfect.
You’re not the mess − I’m the mess.
I’m the one that should know brokenness,
not You.
 
But You were broken, helpless, hopeless,
alone − and You couldn’t find
Your Father anymore than I can find
mine.
 Forgive me, it was I
who did not understand.

Reality Show

Real real real real looks real isn’t real is this –

fake?

Right right right right true correct maybe not is this –

wrong?

“Well…it depends… ya know.

We’ll just call this the genuine fake reality show. 

……What?!

What are you soworried about?

The sequel is even better, even more

intense. Come on, c’mon hurry up!

Let’s go watch it before

you change your mind.”

BANG!

The picture was shot that shoots my mind.

Quick!

            hide

                        run

                                    fly

                                                crash

                                                            cry.

                                                                          Anything to get away.

Lub dub, lub dub,

All gone, all gone, all

gone.

You said

this would be good.

I hate this.

I’m going home.

“Good, good.

It’s bedtime anyway.

Go sleep on it.

I’ll even tuck you in.”

Think think think think

Dream dream dream dream

Remember

            dream

                        fantasize

                                    nightmare

                                                relive

                                                            dread.

                                                                        Was that –

real?

“Well… it depends. Ya never know.

But didja see that?

Magic trick.

Swapping dreams for shame is as easy as

pulling a coin out of a kid’s ear.”

Empty Peddler

What I did not realize at the beginning of all this, was that in searching for something to fill me from pornography and other things, it was like giving a thirsty and dehydrated person saltwater to drink. It only worsens their thirst. It takes a while to realize and actually believe that fresh water exists.


Oh… hello, it’s you –

again.

Empty peddler with Nothing to sell, you!

you charge a mighty high price

for Nothing.

Didn’t you see the sign on my door?

“NO SOLICITING”

 

But silly me I forgot

you never have paid attention

to those signs. You never pay anyone

anything.

Instead, you sell us

Nothing.

 

Nothing – for our pain and loneliness,

Nothing – to fill our happiness

and stretch our peace till it erupts,

Shattered –

into a million meaningless shards.

 

This one thing you do,

and do you ever do it well

you evil genius of an empty peddler.

Time after time you drove

up and down my streets like an ice cream truck.

And I skipped out to meet you

to give you my everything

for your Nothing.

 

And now you’re back –

again.

Shut up, no need

to elaborate,

I know exactly what you’re after:

All of me.

 

But I don’t have

anything left to give you.

Because when I gave God

my Nothing

He gave me His everything.

 

When I try

to do this one thing – His one thing –

I do it terribly, but God –

He does it perfectly.

He has said that

“hello” to Him means

“goodbye” to everyone else.

 

So let’s practice:

“Goodbye.”

Water

Water – flowing

through, washing

over, falling

on me.

 

I drink, I bathe, I swim –

in water. Yes,

 

water is life.

But I cannot grasp

it, I cannot grasp

God.

 

I plunge in my hands –

they come up empty, glistening

wet in the sun.

 

Clean,

but too small to encompass

the ocean, too

small to hold

You.

Amos

Amos,

I see your face emerging cautiously

from the boulder – you look tired.

When will you be complete?

 

Crowds pass you by, looking for the views

at the mountaintop. There is nothing

spectacular

about a lichen – covered boulder, caressed

by trees and wind, but I have heard that

the creation of a masterpiece is a solitary process*

not to be seen by the rushing crowds.

 

So we will wait, you and I,

until the last imperfection

has been chiseled off

and the last torrential rain

has washed us clean, and then

we will live.

 

*reference to the book Hind’s Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard