The Upside of Missing You

I brush my thumb back and forth across my forehead,

As if it were your hand,

In attempts to drift asleep calmly,

Instead of fretting over your wellbeing.

I miss you.

It aches, but I think of thoughts of your return…

Embracing you and spilling out my regret of taking for granted the importance of time.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,

When in reality it simply builds gratitude.

I now believe that is the upside to missing someone so dear.


It Was Never Meant For Me

It was never meant for me,

You see,

The knowledge of good and evil.

The thing that taunts and binds me,

In a circle of confusuion.

The Creator designed me for a purpose to be loved,

While allowing me to mirror Him, by loving in return. 

Just like the creatures that roam the earth, never having to be told their purpose…

I was meant to live so freely, unashamed and never dirty. 

Free from doubts and uncertainty of who I am,

I was meant to walk along with God, not disconnected from his plans. 

I long to enjoy life by simply existing and drawing breath,

While caring and tending to all the living things offered in this land.   

Myself, Forgotten 

“Father, it seems as though I’ve have forgotten myself…”

The words painfully escape her mouth. 

“Be alive,” 

Her heart is told. 

She reads, “don’t be what the world needs.” 

She wonders…if she has been living a slow, forming lie. 

How can living freely be so hard to do? 

Why must she think deeply about everything, that she misses out on living at all?

Old, Burnt Out Candle

I’m like an old burnt out candle
That lost her flame.

Somebody done blew it out.

Blew it out. 
Now I’m searching for the man who holds the fire.

I forgot his name,

But I need to burn again,

To feel alive. 
I’m like an old burnt out candle

That lost her flame.

Somebody done blew it out.

Blew it out. 
I found the one who holds the match.

This time I feel inspired.

But when the flame burns too long all alone, 

It soon goes dim.
I’m like an old burnt out candle

That lost her flame.

I done blew it out.

Blew it out. 
I can’t blame it on a single thing,

This time.

I smothered the flame all on my own,

But I’m not too far gone. 

Hey, Momma, Slow Down 

Hey, momma, slow down…

I know it’s hard,

But don’t you see me?
You work so hard at the job,

But what needs attention is my heart.

So, momma, slow down.
Breathing deeply is simple,

Yet can be profound. 

Momma, can you try it? 
Bills and responsibilities will never end in this earthly world,

So be present in this moment here, right now.

Momma, I beg, slow down.
I love to see you laugh and smile,

I miss your hugs and tender look.

Lets just be quietly together.

The birds are calling your name.

They miss you too.

Go sit outside for a while to slow down.

Don’t think of trying to handle or fix,

No matter what is done, I will love you.

So rest your mind, momma. 

The Eyes of the Bull

The itching ivy palms are my hands. 

The sensation hits before I open my mind to think of the words that will probably never echo out. 

I’ve been here. 

It’s the kind of familiar that you won’t ever be comfortable with.

It’s like being thrown over the railing into a whirlwind of angry water. 

The kind you don’t know how deep or how far it goes…

It’s murky with creatures that haven’t even been discovered yet. 

That’s the key. 

The unknown factor of the reaction.

You see, being the deliverer of truth and honesty is not an easy task. 

But it wasn’t meant to be. 

I’ve learned that from the good man I read about.

In the mirror, I see a lamb,

The follower of a shepherd.

But I feel the shepherd is guiding the lamb to possess the inner strength of a bull. 

Containing the fierceness to resist conformity. 

Having a craving for confrontation,

To confidently approach the enemy and the false words that drive lives into the lonely, hole of unsatisfaction and uncreativity. 

The eyes of the bull are focused and unfearful to fight at all costs…

To tell the world that life’s worth living. 

Under This Old, Oak


I’ll follow you to the shade tree,

As soon as you guide the way.

My feet will move just as quickly as my beating heart.


I’ll follow you there,

Even if you’re scared.

My hand will reach for yours to steady the earthquake of anxiety.


Standing in front of you in vulnerability,

Fills me with freedom and strength.

For these roots are grounded deeply in truth.


Life will always be unpredictable, but we have each other,

Under this old, oak we can share the gift of love,

In the presence of unconditional grace.


I’ll follow you, always, to this place…

To accept all of you,

And will laugh by your side in the moments of altered plans.