Lamentations Poem

Tides rush down un-wooed by the moon
And the soft grey wool of the sky unravels
Like myself all undone to the earth
A puddle weeping into the broken cracks

Neighbor drummer pounds the sounds
Inside my sorry head late at night
Intoxicated with too much thinking
The plants outside too drunk with drinking

Will I awaken tired and sad?
The plants will thrive and green.
Or will the tears be spent tonight
The stains be dry in the morning light
And new mercies shine again?

Lamentations 3:22-23

Jonah Days

The black bell tolls the death knell

It rings in formless tones the fatal word

Of power and fear and helpless drowning

It gives me its ominous name "Overwhelmed".

The white page is vast with empty hope

Uncertainty of life and dreams that press pale

Like a giant whale about to swallow me whole

Though I am not yet running... to or fro.

But I want to run. To hide myself away alone, my fear

Of alone, to block out both the black and white

Not to risk the taming and giving of the wild things

Not to risk the tears and grief and failure.

They will come. They always do. I  know

I bleed red when cut by life's sharp shards

My legs buckle against my will and I fall

And on the way down I wait for the pain.

But then, there I am carpet-faced and crying,

and from there I can see, and seeing, I have hope.

The gong is not for me, the page is not a void.

I can see the palace, and I am not alone.