When?

The urge to create
The desire to imagine
The holy abandon
The joyful passion

When did I learn
Horses aren't green
Skies always blue
Reactions can be mean

When did I learn
My dancing isn't graceful
My words are unwelcome
Responses can be painful

When did I learn
To hide myself away
To learn to pretend
To don a mask each day

To protect my soul and my creations
To dodge the scorn I stop creating
To miss the mockery, shield flesh from thorn
I escape, procrastinate, and mourn

A Poem

I can't remember the last time I wrote a poem, but I think it has to be more than a decade ago. The first few lines spontaneously sprang to mind on a wild and wet coastal walk. So, without further ado...

I Worship You

Wind whipped white caps on a sea of muddy slate
Sideways rain sweeps over the land, stinging my face
All this power is nothing at all compared to you
I’m in awe of all that you are, I worship you
As I stand in this place, I am awed by your grace
I throw open my arm, I’m enthralled by your charms
And I worship you

We visit the doctor searching for reasons for the pain
He says it’s cancer and that’s not the answer we hoped he’d explain
My child is sick and I can’t make sense of the suffering
I know you’re here but I can’t help wondering what to think
As I take it in, my head starts to spin
In this desperate hour, I’m in need of your power
And I worship you

Hate filled cries ring overhead screaming “God is great”
Rocks are thrown and bullets reply there is no restraint
Peace refuses to break out and calm declines to reign
As the blood flows, the guilt grows there’s no end of pain
In times like this, there’s an absence of bliss
Your voice seems so distant; I want you in this instant
And I worship you