Waiting for the Feeling to Return

I haven’t written in way too long. I have had this poem brewing for a while. I thought today would be the perfect day to share since it’s snowing here, and I know no one has anything to do. Here it is. I call it, “Waiting for the Feeling to Return.” Enjoy!

there comes a time in every man’s life when he must decide

when he must choose his way out of choosing neither side

when he must climb down off of his white picket fence

and earnestly claw his way out of the apathetic rut that he has slowly swiveled his heels into

there will come a day when he must realize

that grace and obligation have everything to do with one another

instead of praying for the orphan and the widow, he’s been preying on them

and while he’s been trying to fit the ocean in a cup

his brother’s heart has been overflowing with the Father’s love

his heart is feeble and his mind is week

never knowing the nearness of the grace that he seeks

he has run away

and into an embrace known only to this world

his feet have been set to walking

and his heart to wandering

he drips with sweat he was never meant to bear

and carries chains he was never meant to wear

he spends restless nights awake and alone

praying to the god that never listens

he’s been screaming

he’s been shouting

he’s been crying out

he’s been searching

he’s been seeking

he’s been dying now

longing for a touch

hoping for a kiss

he says, “I prayed my life would never be like this”

and he waits

he waits

sometimes we wait too long

So that’s that. Hope you all enjoyed this. I loved writing it. I hope it touched you like it touched me.


The Death of Gravity

I like this one quite a bit. I hope that enjoyment is shared.

some days I wake up like God put too much gravity in my knees

and now I’m falling prostrate

and on my face is written the name of a god that I created

a god that can’t know my name

this god is a million empty bottles

and a pile of burnt grass

and a collection of brash masks

and a feeble past

and lonely ash

that will one day become my body

I’m killing myself softly

and slowly

and intimately

my feet are dancing vicariously around the idol called me

and I’ve forgotten which way is up

I climbed down from a tree

and ended up in the sky

that was the last time I trusted my own intuition

or my own sense of direction

I asked God to tie balloons around my eyes

so my face would always tilt upward

and so that every god that dust created

would fade away

and fall apart

and die in someone else’s arms

Thanks for reading this. Hopefully, there will be more to come!