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100

100 times
i have hit
the publish button
shared thoughts
and feelings
pinned them down
in cyberspace
like a butterfly
mounted
frozen in time

100 times
pieces of my heart
and my life
have appeared here
shared with you
for your examination
for your contemplation
and it's healing
and it's progress
and it's worth the time

100 times
sometimes forced
sometimes with abandon
sometimes careful
sometimes throwing
caution to the wind
even in the cliches
even in the imperfection
somehow the words
capture meaning

100 times
a person
or a memory
or an experience
or a shared moment
present or past
or imagined yet to come
have found their way
crystallized
made more sense because

100 times
i have exposed
my underbelly
my deepest love
my oldest wounds
my fondest hopes
and i survived
the exposure
didn't kill me but
made me stronger

100 times
i have faced down darkness
asked hard questions
waited for answers to come
and they have appeared
in the next word
or the next line
or the next phrase
bringing light
and Love again

100 times
i have called down
Love
and power
and mercy
and glory
and every time
every single time
they rain down
again

100 times
i have celebrated
the ones who
mean the most
the ones who
give life worth
the ones who
walk beside me
the ones who
inspire me to be better

100 times
leaves a record
full of words
to be mined
for perspective
to be contemplated again
to be reworked
reframed
reworked
resolved

100 times
more than a year
make me resolve
to do more
to write more
to post more
to do better
bad poetry
important only to me
but still important

I Call Him Sweet Potato

"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
-J.K. Rowling "Chamber of Secrets"

Everything in him is intense
His anger
His humor
His sadness
His vulnerability
His love

He is such a clear picture
Of the new man
Warring with the old
The old pushes up - still angry
Still frustrated
But he constantly, insistently
Pushes back
Reaches up
Finds his way again
His humor and kindness
The Spirit inside him
Overwhelm the old anger

He doesn't melt down anymore
He doesn't shut down anymore
Not like he used to
He closes his eyes
And breathes in deep
And finds the man he wants to be

In him, I see
Boy-becoming-man
With unusual intentionality
Creativity
Sweetness of spirit
He goes for it - every time
He leaves it all on the field
He is being defined
By one choice he made
The choice to follow
And the thousands of choices
That follow that one

He has surrendered to Love
To Light
To Redemption
To the One who made him
To a will not his own
And he was transformed

And now, he stands in front
His guitar in his hands
And he leads us - his friends
His family
Others who would follow
Into the worship of the One
Who changed everything for him
The One he surrendered to

His talent
His character
His choices
His intentions
Framed by the one choice
The choice that changed everything

One for Paul

the words i hear most often
when i pray for him
are so clear
and so perfect
"he's my favorite one"
one with a child's heart
but a man's depth
one with kindness
and compassion
and gentleness
one who fights hard
one who keeps going
one has survived the valley
one who has stood on the mountain
one who walks beside his friends
one who relentlessly seeks
one who gives when there's nothing left
and the Father's heart
is so very pleased
with all that he is
and all he will be
all that was ordained
before a hair grew on his head
his path is straight
his destiny assured
the Love that won his heart
will hold him fast
this favorite one

sunday night haiku

i cannot even
begin to say how much i
want to say it all

and yet i am shy
of baring my heart to the
world at large beyond

this newness hidden
is not secret but safely
inside and growing

i cannot even
begin to say how much i
want to say it all