.

I try over and over again.
My heart screams for you
Through my hands.
My eyes long for you.
But I don't intoxicate you.
I don't attract your attention
Even for a little while.
Do you know what my sinking
Heart feels like?
It burns to have you even
Slightly affected.
But you are unfazed
By my endless, tiring attempts
To draw you.
Go ahead and keep looking away.
I'm used to it.

Chains of Freedom.

My chains hold me tight.
I must call them my chains
Because they are no one else's.
They surround me and heavily hang
From my shoulders in cold, metal coils.
If this is freedom,
Why is it so restricting?

Enclave.

You are my Enclave.
A rock of safety,
Safely rocking me to sleep,
And calming the waves that rock my soul.
You, with Your sacrifice, rent the veil
That veiled my King's throne;
And became a veil of light
To veil my eyes from the darkness I had known.
You accessed victory for me through Your cross.
You accessed a cross for me through Your victory.
A cross for me to die to myself on.
A cross to live on.
A cross
That became my door, that You the Door
Died on.
You are my Enclave.
Like David's cave
You hide me from my enemy.
You hide me from myself.
I am my own worst enemy.
I can't outrun myself,
But you can.
You are already at my destination.
You're the walls of salvation
That surround my Enclave
Which is Yourself.
You are my Enclave.

Bookend.

You hold yourself together with
A strong resilience I admire.
You cry all your tears inside
Your own self
Keeping them in a bottle
Made of the hurt you've experienced.
Even bookends need something to lean on
Sometimes.
Tonight, won't you stop trying to
Patch up the holes your tears
Leak out of your heart through?
Don't you know that once your heart empties
All your tears through those holes
I will use those same holes
To pour my love
Into your heart?

Teaching a child the art of confession.

Here is a poem by a writer named David Shumate. He is always a pleasure to read, and I love his work. This poem is my favorite that he writes.

Teaching a Child the Art of Confession

It is best not to begin with Adam and Eve. Original Sin is
baffling, even for the most sophisticated minds. Besides,
children are frightened of naked people and apples. Instead,
start with the talking snake. Children like to hear what animals
have to say. Let him hiss for a while and tell his own tale.
They'll figure him out in the end. Describe sin simply as those
acts which cause suffering and leave it at that. Steer clear of
musty confessionals. Children associate them with outhouses.
Leave Hell out of the discussion. They'll be able to describe it
on their own soon enough. If they feel the need to apologize
for some transgression, tell them that one of the offices of the
moon is to forgive. As for the priest, let him slumber a while
more.

My words can hug too.

My words can hug too
Because I can't tonight.
As you sit alone in your room
And I sit alone in mine.
I know you say they aren't enough
But tonight they will have to do
Because they are all that I can give you.
I poured out my heart to you in those words.
Can't you taste the liquid heart?
Did you even know my heart was
Contained in those word prison-cells?
I poured it out for you to catch.
Did you even catch my poured out heart?
Or were the word containers not good enough?
Because I can't tonight,
My words can hug you,
But you have to let them.

You say.

I know what you say,
You tell me you are very proud of me
But I taste the disappointment in your voice.
It tastes like salty rubber.
I see the looks you give me
They make a lump enlarge itself
In my throat.
I know  I know,
I failed you.
Again.