Still a Tree

You shouldn't be dramatic so

You shouldn't slow the traffic flow

Or frantically wave a flag so white

Ov'r a clean ship healthy at first sight

A ship is first a tree, you know?

And trees ne'er live without a touch of woe

Hardships endured, but thickened bark

Can't stop the wind of deathly stark

The fall of one so great and old

Must sound much like a smash so bold

And splashing into the flowing clear

Like rocks on rocks or thunder near

The river runs swift and blind

Past an old, stuck log refusing to wind

In time it will falter and fall

Jetsam dragged, forgotten by all 

But though the log is tall and wide 

It's still a tree, deep inside

And though the tree is dead and gone

It's still a tree, thick and strong

So because the roots must stay back

The support has now been all but sapped

Those precious nutrients so far away

Getting further and further every day

Perhaps before the log shakes loose

It will find a similar log or two

And form a little dam their own

And firmly stand, to brave the Unknown.

What's the object of the game?

This poem is fictional. But it does relate to this: when something seems wrong, but right at the same time. So you trust it, enough to give it a shot, even when you sense it's leading into a trap. Perhaps it's a wrong motivation, or a dream you're following that someone else dreamt. Beware!

I don't even know your name
And if I did I'd feel the same
I never learned to play this game
But if you teach, I'll try to play.

Look alive, it's time to shine
See if you can't take what's mine
Tie your string and pull my line
With silky words and a smile wide.

But then again, not you but me
Tied that string and hung it free
Yeah it's locked, but here's the key
For any fool to take and keep.

A key that leads to open flesh
Raw and pulsing, my open chest
Covered by no bandaged mesh
No hair or skin or bone protects.

If you ask it, I will gift
That key that leads to captive shift
And walk into deceiving lift
And headfirst ascend through blackened rift.

A Few Short Poems

I wanted to share a few poems I wrote recently.

1.

Ah, a pretty moon does shine
Yellow, like the winner's wine
And though he be not me
I shall look upon a final time

Perhaps, in time, another moon shall rise
And, too, the look of soulful eyes
Upon me, Oh could it be?
Your searching quest has died?

2.

In this ONE DAY, today
Be here, in me, and stay
When I try to cut another
Remind me with your thunder
That you are Love, and so am I
Till the unending well runs dry

3.

Father of smiles
Father who's near
Father from miles
Away from here.

Father of water
Of every star
Would you hear me mutter?
And never be too far?

If you see me shiver
If you smell my fear
If you hear me whimper
Speak strong and clear.

That I'm your son
That your grip is tight
Till the days are done
It's gonna be alright.

4.

Thinking of months and late history,
Things rarely happen the way that you dream
Sometimes it's bad - so bad you feel stuck
Drowning and starving alive in the muck.

Though now is fine, tomorrow is shaken
If it's looking too well I might wait to me waken'd
'Cause even though I'm headed back home,
It doesn't mean I won't feel all alone

I'm shaking, I'm scared, I'm feeling blind
Reaching out, I don't know what it is that I'll find.
All the faces are different, the voices are wrong,
Or has everything here been a dream all along?

Choose Well

What happens next does matter most!
    To drop my eyes with shoulders bent,
        And walk away from break of day?
Into the night self-engrossed,
    And tread only where the bitter went?

This moment now shall choice be made
    'Tween hope, despair; to love or hate?
        Will others' speech so deeply reach?
Or will your Love in me invade?
    Or will your Light new heart create?

"Choose well," do whisp'ring angels say,
    "It matters more than you may think."
        But another voice gnaws at my choice.
A dark, dark shadow stands in the way...
    But of his cup I will not drink!

So stand I shall with friends beside,
    And face and eyes all held up high,
        With hope and love 'neath Love above,
And live because of him who died,
    To walk in Light until I die!

Hourglass

That old clock's ticking like it's the last day of the world.

That captain's wheel spinning, hands a blur.

Our roads spiral quickly together,

Soon to join forever

As one.

Smiles spread and grins grow.

A little life multiplies into new joy and hope.

Before we know it, saplings of bright green jump and thrive

Then midnight strikes and the pillows meet our old, accomplished eyes

Spring Faith

Aye, this be a new chapter. God has written a suspenseful one, but I believe it’s coming to an end. Very old junk, old hurts, present exposure, present pain, new healing, new life! The previous chapter was one of colorful adventure in Vancouver, in Thailand and Malaysia with new friends from around the world, and in a beautiful community fighting to grow closer to God. But it ended 7 weeks ago in Alberta with a gray-scale Tuesday morning conversation that I’ll never forget.


The cat was out of the bag and the closet opened and contents spilled out. I was in trouble for mistakes I had made nearly a year before. That day saw some light though: I vowed to make things right and Jesus was in front of me – the beacon of reconciliation to lead the way. Emotions came and went: shame and confusion, then anger, then eventually and God-willing, compassion; to step out of my shoes and into another’s. I finally sensed some of the trouble I caused and squirmed uneasily. Then the good news set in, “This can be restored.” Really, truly made right.


It’s been a great story, if I may say so. The enemy, the antagonist, wasn’t clear for a time. At first I thought it was the then-revealed victim. Of course I discovered the enemy is rarely the person who’s hurt. The enemy is instead the one that silences the promise of healing. And his destiny is set, isn’t it?


I had a mediator – a godly man to help me; to defend me but also to make me see the wholeness of what I’d done, mixed with the destruction wrought by another who does not come into this tale… a child whose actions were never reckoned for. So I was not wholly to blame, but some blame was mine, and it is the role of a friend to reveal that if need be.


The River Time coursed by… it was mostly frozen at first, advancing at an agonizingly slow pace. But it picked up, thawed by the great Sun, by breaths of the great Creator who wished to test my patience and my integrity.


I ran the course with bow set stubbornly straight. Indeed, I may have never been so set in my ways as I was these last couple months; set on making things right, on seeing this through. As a character learns his strengths and weaknesses, I have learned and admit proudly that I am a Carer. Though clinging to selfishness at times, I have been endowed with a capacity to care. I am a cacophony of selfishness and selflessness, but inevitably, with enough time spent with Jesus, the melodies of love and peace and patience will ever carry on and away and drown out the harsh discords of self-demand. There was a lovely harbor I regrettably stole from in my youth. But I sailed my ship back there and mended what I could. Recovery will take time but I believe I’ve done my part for now. The rest, thankfully, is up to the Shipwright and the Repairman, the God of the land and the sea.


And the page turns as a large hand titles a new chapter, "Spring Faith."

May it be a sweet, sweet sound

This song really hit me at church. When we speak to God, he listens. And, it's a sweet, sweet sound in his ear.

I love you Lord

And I lift my voice

To worship you

Oh my soul Rejoice

Take joy, my King

In what you hear

May it be a sweet, sweet sound

In your ear