the posture of the weak

Will my fearing, unfaithful grip allow your will to unravel? Is that the doubt that the enemy dangles in front of Emilie’s life? Here I am Lord, so inspired by You. Is the divinity you have planned for my life in the overturning of temptation? Here I am Lord, fighting a battle on this passage of time. I dream of a fight that possesses the inequity of sin’s illusion to Your said uncompromising power. Lord tonight outline the constellations for me, not the streetlights. Whisper “beyond”. Entangle me in your perfection. Tell me how it is to love You now that I have loved the world. Lift every scent of  unquenced desire away from the peel of my life. Let my heart cease to be a brothel, bought by the world for a few minutes, and then deserted in the creases of dark and dying. Let your people’s cries deafen my selfishness and burden my head as it lies down on its unhumbled throne of security. Abba, Father, You will see it done.


Repost “Chew” by David Bowden

You have been served
Ancient delicacies of
Grace and truth
But wash them down with
A communion cracker
And a shot of juice
Don’t forget to chew
For you have tasted nothing
And digested even less
You have mouthfuls of church
But I can’t even smell Christ on your breath
Chew a little longer on the bread of life
Those loaves of truth will age in your mouth
Like the finest of wine
Keep a word between your teeth at all time
Like, “Love”, oh!
Never stop biting on love
Let it get stuck between your molar and wisdom
Suck on it until all the flavor is gone
And you have tasted all the subtleties of             
And Hope 
Found in that one sweet bite of love 
Then, once every taste is divined, 
Swallow and let the truth you’ve refined 
Permeate your life 
Medicate your strife 
Renovate your mind 
Penetrate what’s blind 
Meditate a little longer on the bread of life prepared for you
Eat all you can of these loaves of truth
But remember this, my hungry family 
Never forget to chew

David Bowden, Chew (Meditation)

{my} story and why it should be told.

For the longest time, I grew up unscathed and embraced. I was a tree whose roots had never experienced thirst or tire or uproot. But now that’s not the case.

I think everyone experiences that turn where your life isn’t such a plateau. I don’t know when that was for you, but I know that it’s happened. And I don’t know what it feels like for you, but for me it feels like someone dragged me from my home, my safety, and my tether. Without warning. Without the stories, without flashing lights, without anything but the color of white inhibiting my eyes making me feel the pain of unexpectancy.

It’s when undoubtable became doubted. It’s when unconditional love found a condition. Or two, or three, or a thousand.

And sometimes I feel stranded. I felt like I could have maybe dug my fingernails into the ground a little more than I did, I felt like I could have tightened the muscles of my forearms to experience just a bit more of the hold, just so I at least felt a dangling sense of belonging.

But instead there was a flash of light and the people who held me together let go. They had more concerns, and I was older, and they were too, and I was different now and there was a circular hole to be fitted into and I was too square. My hands were molded to hold hopes, but they tried desperately to hold the hurt while still saving face. Without being a burden.

I guess what I’m trying to say is please be burdened. Even if it takes alot to be sad, do it. There’s alot of people who get tired of being responsible for you. It happens and it’s awful. But the Lord eagerly sets apart people who joyfully repair you from the day the untouched hair on your head first burst forth through that atmosphere on into a defeating and parasitic surrounding. And if those people aren’t yet apparent, allow me to pray for you. There are so many gory parts of me that are shared in love by people now. Allow His divinity to creep through old and new sidewalk cracked-cements, filling you with the knowledge that His presence and His community are worlds apart from the once “unconditional love” you received. Trust in my hurt that breaking into an atmosphere of new and unaccounted-for pain has the potential to show you elation that is just as unexpected. We are the wounded.

A memory

I sit with a jumpy heart and eyes full of light. I tell my stories, while he outlines the silence. His eyes share my cues for response, and then retreat to carving out his own little discoveries. He soaks up words, lovingly sensing my heart, in tender half moon smiles, all the while arranging his thoughts from afar. He is the perfect paradox. I wonder what words are pretty enough, are worthy of seeping into his mind, so air-tight, so individual. I want to rearrange his stars, break into  his atmosphere just to understand… to just experience more than just a pinch of this magic. Being with him is living a lifetime of splendid moments in the course of a second.



Hunched, traveled in the sun, storytelling, the perfect resting place, molded for mine, cradle-like , protective, shadowy curves, fingernails like stumps, brown and warm, like autumn’s hug, rusty, low light

A {short} story

“Mother says that when I start talking, I never know when to stop…” But I would counter that talking is more productive than the silence. My words, yes, may be an impulsive sloo of tangles, in the beginning-but that’s just the beginning. I like to think that my voice journeys into heart, like a search light, beaming into the undeveloped, the unexposed, the darkness. If darkness is never shone light there is no chance of seeing. Seeing the violent crash of waves upon a frothy cape cod shore, or the first breath of life, a new born color conceived by love. I speak because I want to know the spectrum of life’s offerings. I speak because I enjoy the crisp bite of creation. 




Upon meeting you,

When time slow danced,

When the stars married our souls,

When the sun fell afresh like morning,

and the moon made us wonder.


My love, you were born a new colour.

You shocked my eyes with light and dazzle.

You shot through the heavens, through

the atmosphere, the air quivering,

my mind rearranging,

New dimension.

Did I mention?

You’re my favorite colour.





I will be putting in some works from this past semester’s in class writing. These were inspired by various prompts but still, I believe I maintain a personal marriage to my own style. My hope is that these work in compliance with the themes the rest of my writing encourages.

Much love,