lump

"No need to pray, no need to speak...

The arms of the ocean are carrying me

And all this devotion was rushing onto me

And the question of heaven

For a sinner like me

But the arms of the ocean delivered me

Never let me go, never let me go

Never let me go, never let me go."

- Florence + the Machine

My unfaithful weeks, words and thoughts are not enough to undo His faithfulness to me. My anger and doubt do not lessen His love or deter His grace. He holds me gently even when I am trying to thrash Him away. He rains His tears over me even when I am swallowing the lump in my throat. He sings over me even when I play my music loud enough so as to block out His voice. He tells me He will never let me go even when I am running away. He says "I will carry you" even when I am sure I will fall.

"The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still."

- Exodus 14:14

candle

Midday Fingers

guiltcave holds strong

old stubborn wretched

but next to Love's mountain

sin and pain fall flimsy

for yours is grace robust, if quiet

and yours is grace enough.

that midnight breath: blow

those midday fingers: reach

to meet all depths and dirt within.

now Holy Blood [shed], 

and Holy Body [shred],

the Holy Man [dead]

...for rotten me.

So you are. 

More broken for my brokenness

Than my brokenness breaks me.

You are where I am buried.

Lie with me, and death shall not do us part.

First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes and oh, my friends - 

It gives a lovely light.

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

I know that this intense passion that fuels every corner of my heart is essentially youthful. It may not last through this whole fleshly life. But I don't mind that. I mind only to burn fully, wholly living out this flame, putting the light and heat to use. I claim to have no eternal blaze, but I hope all my young burning may be for the blessing of others, and for the glory of the one Everlasting Fire.

"They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the one who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!""

- From On The Road by Jack Kerouac

sway

"How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true;

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face."

- William Butler Yeats

"Sometimes its good to be lost and its good to be alone

To be half drunk swaying to a band you don't know."

- Josh Pyke

Sometimes I wonder if life might be found further beyond the God who consumes me. Sometimes I ponder my furious passion, and consider it's fulfilment outside of Christ. I think, perhaps it is found in Paris streets, or maybe in drunken dazes stumbling around with a achingly attractive stranger. Maybe life is located in fame and money and beautiful clothes. Maybe it's found when you break the law, when you rebel against every barrier and restriction. Maybe life is really in the pursuit of popularity, or knowledge, or experience.

And so I dabble. I dip my toes in these alluring waters. I let the taste of life without God linger on my tongue. I travel, I spend, I kiss, I drink, I rebel. But, somehow, my infinite, deepest soul-part knows, really really knows, that all I am looking for, all I am without, all my emptiness can only be filled by Him.

The world will love me and leave me. The world will suck me in, give me a fun ride, but then spit me right back out. The world will satisfy, but only for awhile: then it will leave me cold and broken and addicted, and I'll have to claw my way back for more. But Jesus, my sweet, wonderful friend... one wholesome hour in His company, one true touch of His hand, one perfect word from His lips, and I am transformed: I am met and healed and filled right to the depths of me. God warns us that desire can be dangerous, and that so often it leads us away from Christ. Satan whispers lies about life residing in loud clubs and stranger's beds. But this week, God has entered into this place in me - this stretching dissatisfaction, this "dangerous" desire - and He has loved me there. He has rejoiced in my passion to live. And He has shown me that He and only He can give me the life I long for. He is the origin of life, and all that tries to live without Him will eventually fall away. So to Him I die, to Him I chose to lose my life: for in Him I will find it. 

Holy Sonnet XIV

Batter my heart, three-person'd God; for, you

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;

That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend

Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.

I, like a usurp'd town, t'another due,

Labour to admit you, but oh, to no end,

Reason your viceroy in me, me should defend,

But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.

Yet clearly I love you, and would be loved fain,

But am betroth'd unto your enemy:

Divorce me, untie me, or break that knot again,

Take me to you, imprison me, for I

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

- John Donne

greenly

i thank you God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything

wich is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth

day of life and love and wings:and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing 

breathing any-lifted from the no

of all nothing-human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

- e. e. cummings

Dearest Readers: even when life sucks, even when you fight with your Mum, even when you forget your beauty and worth, even when you bury your heart or forget to protect it, even when the day is dark and the night is lonely, even when you eat tears for breakfast, even when guilt haunts you and doubt hunts you, even when goodness and God seem too far to reach...

... even then, there is E. E. Cummings.

Open to life and healing. Drink poetry and art and creation; skull it down like medicine. These things are sections of God's love laid out for you like some heavenly feast. Be greedy - consume it all. Take all that is natural and infinite and yes, for it is yours. If everything is His, and you, as a child of God, are a co-heir with Christ, then it is your birthright. You are a leaping greenly spirit, and you are destined for greatness. Do not confine yourself to grief and sorrow. Do not be governed by grammar and society. With Christ, you are more than conquerors. Throw open the curtains and let the Light pour in. Step up boldly and claim the gifts that are yours. Friends, Jesus came to give us abundant life, so come and receive it.

poète

"Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina."

l. 427, "The Waste Land", T.S. Eliot. 


Miss Midnight
The night and I are old friends.
I am a sleeping sunshine

She, a daytime moon.

My music words have grown quiet

So Miss Midnight comes for me.

She scatters my mind about the room

Fairy light, bittersweet dust.

She hushes the clocks and clicks the locks

Around my resting place.
There, I sleep
Not for tiredness, not for boredom
Not for escape, not for necessity.
I sleep for pure, clean, engulfing contentment.
The nocturnal maiden
She hums me, hides me, over and tides me
'Til the morning returns to find me. 

The Blessed Season
O Summer, why do you hold back?
Come forth! Brilliant one!
Approach us boldly with your hot authority.
Come now and burn our skin
Seep through this barren city
Make us gasp for water 
Make us wish we'd never shunned the cold.
May your rage and rays
Send us, heads hung low, marching in procession
For blessed refuge in the ocean's embrace.


A Sweeter Love
There is night: colder, meaner, further than the moon
but there is day: fuller, wider, brighter than noon.
There is sadness: lower, weaker, longer than sorrow
but there is hope: stronger, deeper, better than tomorrow.
There is question: richer, righter, higher than how
but there is time: newer, lighter, warmer than now.
There is death: madder, uglier, darker than the abyss.

but there is love: bolder, sweeter, holier than a kiss.

Vulture Me
meandering in and out of consciousness

smokehaze or thought
hang above the circle

milky warmth and old t-shirts

empty haikus and frosted glass

amplifying the spaces that my love cannot reach

there is much to be said (and nothing)

for seed and Stone: for mustard and Morning

buried deep in the red, cracked earth of a heart

red wine spilt, water on granite

ordinary citizens barge through

plain words assault the intricate ones

they circle my mind so vulture me, Jesus.