a poem I wrote today

51097678_2036768136414122_6275177970868944896_nListen to the bones swimming in the flesh of your legs,

The blood crashing through the narrow tunnels of your veins,

The oxygen whispering in your lungs

And in your pores,

Deep into the core

Of every precious organ.

Listen to that power,

Rushing, surging, coursing through your body,

Urging it onward…

Gently but surely pressing on

So that with each new dawn

You shall arise.


And deep within you lies triumphant:


Every fiber of your being screams that it’s alive!

Hope soars in your chest,

Flying through your flesh.

Take pride in being human,

And with that know humility

At the wonder that you are!

Look within at this glorious collaboration working inside you.

Flesh and bone,

Intellect and will,

Blood and water,

Heart and soul.


Listen to that soft stillness…

The one that drowns out all the noise — interior and exterior.

To this one listen closely,

For though all your physicality tells you you’re alive,

This one says, “I’m living.”

And if that one you hear,

You know for what you’re living.


Listen to that soft stillness…

The still small voice within.

Be still,

And hear the bones swimming in your flesh,

The blood crashing through your veins,

The air whispering in your lungs.


April 14, 2018

Ready to Fail

pigeon and seagull flying above body of water
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I’m daring to hope.

I’m daring to hope that it might be.

I’m daring to dream about what it might be.

I’m daring to believe it will be.

What a risk.

What a risk to my heart,

To my mental stability.

But a risk I’m willing to take.

I’m daring to hope.

I’m willing to hope.

I’m ready to fly,

And ready to fail.


September 6, 2018


pink flower plant with green leaves

A lily:

It grows slowly,

Blooming so gradually that if you keep your eyes on it, you don’t really notice the growth.

And then all at once,

All of the sudden it has bloomed!

It seems like in an instant it has become the beautiful thing it was supposed to be,

When really, all this time it has becoming it quietly, slowly, patiently.

The full bloom is quite shocking,

Quite mysterious, really,

Because you look at it and think,

“Wow! How did it get there?

How did it make such a drastic change overnight?”

But it hasn’t happened overnight, has it?

No, it’s been a process,

A long and hidden process, unseen to the naked eye.

Similar to a caterpillar becoming a butterfly,

It does all its changing on the inside, in secret,

And then bursts forth from its cocoon completely different!

The original creature is still there;

It has not become a new species, but really just a more beautiful and more complete version of itself.

The caterpillar is just the bud preparing to bloom.

This does not, however, make the bud or the caterpillar any less important than the flower or the butterfly,

For without the latter, they could not have known or become their future selves.


Started October 8, 2018

Finished October 9, 2018

Photo by Alan Cabello on Pexels.com

The Moon

full moon

He hangs, suspended, weightless orb,

Calm and gentle, to light the world.

Softly, dimly, kindly he lights,

Keeper of stars, and governor of nights.

He hangs, suspended, hooked in the sky,

As we rest our heads sleeping, sweetly we lie.

The wolves to him howl,

The owls, they say, “who…”

And the moon, yes the moon,

The moon brings the dew.

He comes and he goes, waxing and waning,

The tide he directs, the ocean sustaining.

And then when its time for the sun to arise,

The humble moon governs the other night skies.


August 30, 2017

Photo by Alex Fu on Pexels.com

Praises for Your Name

IMG_3381Countless are Your names, Lord,

Of which abundant light

Shines forth upon Your Kingdom

In endless glory bright.

Your names we speak to praise You,

To sing for Your delight,

To sing of Your good works, Lord,

Oh what a splendid sight.

Yaweh, Savior, Spirit,

King and Shepherd, Lord,

The small bird humming softly,

For whom the lion roared.

The mightiest of all Kings,

The humblest of them all,

So meek and oh so lowly,

The cross that stood so tall.

Wearer of the crown of thorns,

Ever-reining Prince of Peace,

To You we shall surrender,

To You are souls we do release.


August 11, 2017

A Weed

flores natureza primavera

I am like a weed:

Uprooted many times

But always growing back.

Blossoming in places

Where I sometimes feel unwanted,

And sometimes feel alone.

But as I bloom and age and grow,

I change to something new

And the wind then comes and picks me up,

And spreads me some place new.


June 21, 2018

Photo by Edson Silva on Pexels.com