it blossoms beauty
in nature’s delicate form,
colors springing forth
like a fountain,
dipping to the earth
from which it came.

teasing the churned soil,
the wind sweeps the petals
from side to side,
mocking earth’s bare surface
where no arms can reach
to drag her down.

colors spiraling,
petals dancing,
a green stem bathes in natural light,
turned to dancing rays,
until clouds rebel
and rain cascades through the air
and kisses the petals
with the slightest touch–
at first.

I see you with your smile,
where you play in the leaves
and try to hold the sun
between your fingers.

you prance through the garden,
admiring the flowers
until you find my rose
where it sways in the morning breeze.

you crouch down to stare at it,
and I see the question forming
in your eyes,
so I answer anyway:

don’t be afraid
to pick the petals
but please don’t
rob it clean.


My God Pursues Me

I’m afraid of myself and this burden I carry,
obsessing over the pain I hate,
yet I display an image that I’m okay,
matched with an identical fake smile
I pulled from my wardrobe today.

because I like to hide, you see,
in my dress of pride
and I hope You’ll never notice
the ugliness underneath,
that maybe my mask will conceal the fear

I feel

each day

as my anxieties press it and probe it
but will You, won’t You
chase me down the aisles of madness,
a maze we call life,
because I’m running and wishing
You won’t catch me but then I’m hoping
You will.

let’s stop hiding behind lies, dear.
this barrier isn’t safe anymore
because He pursues me through the cold
of the night though I scream at Him
to keep away,
to let me hide in my sin
but my heart is a magnet.

He says, stop running, child
and I see Him standing there
with open arms
though my skin is cold
and my sin, it’s old
He loves me



I wish I could hold my breath for hours,
so I could let the water enfold me
and remain beneath the waves
with salt on my tongue
and sand between my fingers,
and the silence of the sea
like a melody to my ears
besides the gentle rocking
of dark waves.

will You speak to me
in the silence of the outside?
I bury myself beneath the folds of the noise
like I bury myself beneath the waves of the ocean,
pretending my eyes are glued shut
and I am simply senseless.

I want You to tell me why I should open them,
why I shouldn’t be drowning myself under darkness
because truthfully it drives me mad, this obscurity.

my soul thirsts for light and I want You to bring it to me,
tricking myself with the notion
that maybe You can’t find me, when really
I just don’t see You.

maybe You’re calling my name
but my hands are still over my ears.
I guess I forgot to take them off;
or am I just rebellious of your grace?

I’m so undeserving, trying to play a game with You,
pretending that I hide, You seek, that You can’t find me
but then maybe I’m just not willing to look above the waves.

I think I’m escaping the noise
but really
I’m just making more of it.

that’s why You amaze me
when You somehow reach me
and open my eyes
even at my darkest.

You teach me how to look
above the waves.


I see the world in black in white,
where smiles are colorless and faces are plain
as places fly past my window but I don’t bother
to put my hands on the glass.

Everything is a blur of black and white
where nothing catches my attention
because there are
no splashes of color in my eyes.

Paint me a picture
but I will not notice
any difference at all
or at least,
you won’t know if I do.

The earth is spinning so slowly to us
there should be time for me to notice
this spectrum of color people walk upon,
but I like to hunch and hide in my car
where everything flies by in a blur
and my world is so

Pretend you don’t know me,
as you will,
or recognize me for my feigned

But you see me at the bus stop,
at the café,
at your work,
at your school.

My name is Indifference;
I cannot be a distorted facade forever.

The Voice

the accountability of a thousand mistakes oppresses my mind
like a weight upon my chest, slowly crushing my lungs
but I’m afraid to exhale these piling regrets
because I feel it will all tumble out with no sense of subtlety.

there’s a daunting whisper lurking inside that I can’t erase my fears
nor the memory of my fears because they still exist,
buried deep within yet they rush like a flood to my heart
at the slightest lurch of change.

comfortability is the couch like opportunity is the door,
a door that frequently opens and closes
while a Voice calls my name from the hallway,
but I am so afraid of what lies beyond the door.

the destination is a precious jewel to be coveted,
but the journey is a cave of trial and tribulation
and my uncertainty is the barrier I don’t dare to break
because of my fear.

the pressure of the past is killing me
and I’m determined to remain on my couch,
living with a false view that this is best for me
while the Voice calls from the hallway of a hundred open doors.

soon this sense of comfortability is uncomfortable in itself
as I lay awake at night with a barricade of growing regrets
and wonder if I’m missing out on something greater,
but I am continually wrestling my fears.

the Voice is louder now but I refuse to listen
to the plans in store if I would only pass through a door
though there’s a minuscule crack in the walls circling my heart,
a crack the Voice has taken advantage of and slowly pries open.

it’s a lasting process, the prying,
a process I think I’m fighting but there’s a part of me
that thirsts for the drink of life this Voice is feeding me,
the drink that flows with strength within my weakness.

eventually I am ashamed of this state of laziness,
restless to drive my fears back and step through a door
although I realize I cannot do so without the Voice,
so I let Him break my walls and fill my heart with His presence.

He leads me to an open door,
an opportunity to step into a new life, a harder life but a better life,
where uncomfortable situations reign and I’m often tempted to turn back
but He helps me move forward.

my regrets are fingered and tugged upon
when I finally learn to let them go piece by piece,
entrusting the pain I’ve obsessed over for so long
to the Voice.