like a small child on the lap of her father she rereads the book for the 133rd time traces her delicate hands over the ragged page humming the sound she feels would come from the sky swaying to the beat of the rhyming words
this is her comfort.
growing in an age of the drunken old man asleep on his pillow of gold. the earth is his overcoat, and the spirit of the age is his sleeping pill - drifting him away.
cracked skin and rubbed down knuckles, he snores to the sound of "comfort, and safety, and pleasure" and his droning is the fire behind every word being brought forth. "drink and be merry - for we rule the world"
she didn't choose to be born in this hour.
and she barely understands.
at night, when the wind rattles the window, we hide in the closets and talk to Jesus. the earth rumbles, and when the TV's finally turned down, and the silence is visited, we know something is about to happen.
and even so,
she didn't choose to be born in this hour.
and she barely understands.
rocks cradled in the arms of the earth, dirt covered and telling stories, sing His praises.
deep in the oceans, where men know not of, they groan for His return, because even they - lacking spirit and soul - know something is terribly wrong.
like a little girl, dancing to acoustic strumming and piano banging, asking to know the God who created her...
believing there's a world to explore in the recesses of her being. laying down she sees inside, doors upon doors upon doors where light creeps from gap between floor and frame.
it's the rooms of the stories of the prophets. it's the halls of the tears of the martyrs. it's the longing of all those who have came before her.
an ushering.
she didn't ask to be born in this hour.
and she barely understands.
it's the culmination of the ages. and the bowls of the cries of the chosen ones burns forth, and there is such thing as the wrath of the Lamb.
but amidst a scarlet woman on a scarlet beast. the room where she reads, the walls to which she sings, and even the father who raised her up, flee away.
and she hears.
the pages come to life, and the musics volumes shake the floorboards. she whispers, "HE IS REAL."
this is the swimming in the dwelling place of God. He who is a Priest and a Lamb. He who is slain and rose again. He who is a servant and a King.
the desire of the nations.
the man of war, drenched in the blood of the wicked.
the Lion of the Tribe of Judah is roaring.
and the noise rattles her frame, and she falls to her face - a picture and a sign. the Bride, so unaware. the Bride, being called forth.
Oh so distant are the wildernesses in which prophets are born. Oh so terrible is the sun. Oh so troubling is the loneliness. Oh so terrifying is the hour. Oh so great is our God.
all the aching of all the hearts is found in the Fountain. all the aching of all the hearts is found in the Light.
and she is found drinking deeply, and she is found swimming in the heat of the glory.
as she bellows "I want to be with You where you are" and as soon as the song is sung, the tenor overtakes from the depths of His being, the same song, "I want to be with You where you are."
she didn't ask to be born in this hour.
and she barely understands.
but He is asking for friends. for His rod of iron shall dash them, and His wife will be clean. His glory shall arise in Zion, and the darkened skies will break, and nothing will ever be the same.
and so the chorus arises, for those who love His appearing, "Even so, Come Lord Jesus."
Prone to wander Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart Lord, take and seal
Seal it for thy court's above.
today i sat down at a table
on a balcony
looking down down down
drinking from a straw
and feeling a calling. [that haunting]
the kingdom within me is letting down
its ancient bridge
over that lime-green moat filled with
alligators and sea serpents and magical seaweed,
and, REALLY,
i feel the cranking of the large
metal
handle.
see the trees ahead.
they are waving.
clickkkk, click, click.
i'm remembering what it's like to feel
free.
delightful.
mystical.
lovely.
and the liberated soul within this castle, this kingdom,
this city i find myself in -
it's terrifying.
really.
to come alive.
to breathe air that crystallizes the lungs
and makes you fly.
to stop being so afraid.
to dance to music.
to sing to the wind.
to balance your heels on the brick ledge.
to love without expectation, without requirement.
to be.
to become.
to stop seeing at grey-scale,
and let the colors dress up the mind.
who
am
i
[question mark]
for all these pieces aren't fitting together
in this place, with these circumstances.
and change is inevitable.
Your love is strong.
and its gotta keep me.
its gotta keep me.
you gotta have mercy on this little girl
who giggles at every
shiny thing
that comes
her
way.
i'm easily fascinated.
i quickly drown in my imagination.
i don't know how to be.
so great teacher, school master
up there smiling at the chalk board -
here i sit on the ground
like an earthquake is
coming
and my hands are on my neck
and i'm shaking.
i'm shaking.
i don't know how to let love flow from
this one.
i don't know how to love.
teach me
to live even as the record shifts.
teach me
to resonate that which you
are speaking.
teach me to let this spine
stand up straight
and rejoice in today, rejoice in tomorrow -
be blown by the spirit.
stop feeling so guilty and charged
heavy with iniquity.
i gotta read Your story
and find myself in its pages.
the skyline is pretty tonight
the wine is heavy
the beat of the song makes the birds twirl upon their branches.
i can hear you in the smog over the city
and the silence of my beating heart.
the draw bridge has almost met its match
and you're asking me to
walk with you on the water.
to go set the people free.
to get past the intro - and
BEGIN.
it's time to explore.
the wilderness has become my comfort.
my barrenness my badge.
to smile because the dress was
1.95
feels so foreign.
yet you love me.
and this is the route
to burning...
and i don't like when you wash my feet.
morning glories.
67 degree evenings.
heart shaped cookies.
sand dunes.
i'm beginning.
i'm beginning.
i'm beginning.
forgive me. i don't know how to love.
you promised. i'm waiting.
i'm waiting. i'm waiting. i'm waiting.
i tiptoe onto the bridge and the sun is singing
harmony to the tune always playing in my head
you're smiling.
you love to watch this.
your banner over me is love.
heavenly father
i'm willing.
they compare beauty to
emerald lipstick and all those gaudy
ruby rings you find in the plastic,
vintage candy machines.
i'm looking for a 747 to be my carriage,
and swing me to some ethereal tree-houses
or boathouses made out of crystal
floating in the middle of the sea.
dear adventure,
i am waiting for you to return my letter
post-marked four hundred and thirty seven hours ago.
you promised to be quick in response,
but i'm still waiting here
with my neon yellow carrying case
and six hundred summer dresses.
my right leg is falling asleep from crossing them
for fourteen plus days.
and my hair smells like summertime,
and this glass jar of fireflies' sign no longer reads
vacancy.
when will our carousel arrive?
love, longing.
i'm shedding skin like a snake
on the inside.
and things are changing like those plastic toys
kids place on their eyes to watch mini slideshows.
dinosaurs change to butterflies change to firehouses change
to the big question mark painted with pastels.
click, click, click.
when you squint you can see what its asking,
"is this change where He wants me to be?"
"did i catch the right train?"
"what am i doing wrong?"
and i don't know really,
for the smell of chlorine makes me cry
and my dreams are filled with mountains and fairies
and romantic, ethereal, elegant & dainty sort of movie-esque,
momentary after-dinner conversations.
or something like that.
and if you peer through the crack in the golden wall,
you see him eating His dinner alone, with these spoons and forks
that seem too elaborate to be practical.
ya, he knows you are watching him, and he's inviting you in.
but i'm just sitting here at the side of the road,
with my journal and pen,
waiting for something that might never come.
but when i close my eyes, i see.
and i feel the sun licking my skin, it's spit the freckles that merge
together into a cluster of islands on the sea.
but when i close my eyes, i see.
he's drinking that red wine that smells sorta fragrant,
and i can taste it in the air.
he's on a mountain of buttons that will close up all that's
gaping wide and exposing my shame.
his table is turquoise.
his chair is on fire.
and i think he knows i'm watching.
and slowly he raises the cup, and starts to speaking.
but he's moving his mouth, and now he's weeping.
but i can't hear a sound.
i can't hear a sound.
my eyes suddenly open, like the draw back of the shade
rolling up all violently,
and i hear the cars go by. they're drowning out the sound.
cats are crying, and men are yelling, and the clouds seem to be
playing music that fills up my mind. it's the cake in the creases.
so much traffic. so much ebb and flow of this symphony.
martha put on mary's sweater and hear your master luring.
i just want to swim in his wine, and ask him why he's crying.
i scream something under my breath and kick my suitcase in
front of the coming cadillac. i lay down and breath into the sky
to push the clouds out of the way, and start eating the rays
of sun.
i take the key and lock my eyes into the chambers of darkness.
he's weeping. he's calling. he's beckoning. and he knows i'm watching.
and all the letters on the buttons on the remote have been rubbed out,
because time's been wearing them down,
and i can't find the unmute button.
and there he sits, like a king in his castle, and a peasant in his shack.
he's got the wine. he's got the wine. and he's roaring in silence.
something is wrong here.
and i want to pull out my eyes and make them cry.
i want to find the strings of my heart and play them into
feeling. feeling. feeling, whatever the silent man is weeping.
and i know his tears mixed with the red, red drink of choice
will heal my soul,
and sit me at that table
and make me whole.
but i can't interpret what he's saying.
and my spirit's not glowing.
your tears are flowing beneath my feet,
and the waters cold.
you are shivering.
the words weave up the cemented door that
invite me into peace of mind.
"this is who you are,
this is where you are going."
or something like that in poetic nature yet to
enter english language.
the words are dancing.
the words are breathing.
the words are wrapping around my limbs and pulling me near.
it's the vines of the lamb.
it's the vines of his name.
it's the vines that keep growing - paused in time.
i will be your grape, and i will be your vineyard.
make me into wine.
take me where it's you and i.
man of silence shrouded by my busy mind.
your my lover. i'm your chime.
when i hear you, my bells begin to sing.
you love me and i do not understand.
the cement in the doorway tastes like candy-cane.
the vines are growing in slow motion.
i want to be with you where you are.
you promised.
i'm a failure.
oh wretched april, may, and june.
i see your sunshine, like a carrot at the end of the string,
and i'm a donkey running after thee.
HERE I COME!, in circles, in circles.
you're just a freaking carrot.
or perhaps a sugar-cube. mmmmm.
drip drip drip candied, carmalized covered AMbien-ed.
watch me sleeeeep.
oh, you sweet tasting season of rebuke
at the height of the mountain,
these feet fall from that raaaaaging
bonfire
of ZEAL. FEEL. THE BANQUETING MEAL.
i think i'm in one of those dreamy nightmares,
where you think you're awake
but your Asleep, comatose, undone Mistake.
and now i'm screaming, still sleeping,
hands reaching,
all i want are eyes that see.
i wish i could hear the Man's
affections for me
in this season of potential numbness.
His evaluation. His great grading system
(because He sees right through,
like a supernatural x-ray machine)
read me Your charts.
look at His badge, on the shiny white lab coat,
it's blinding - but the pages have cryptic typing.
that He's mercy and judgment.
and He's perfectly right. and rightly perfect.
so tell me, huh, what do those papers say!
i need a holy prescription.
a dose of pink sticky medicine,
down the esophagus...
that sends shock waves to the heart.
because I do want to be ready. i want to be silly in love.
i want to be AWAKENED (with all fire and passion)
giggle giggle turn and jump.
maybe it's because everything's changed.
new friends.new job.new house.new weather.
it's all quite normally American pleasantly breezy.
i'm not locked in a whole,bald,starving, and freeeeezing.
i have a dress on, curls, cafe.latte, sunburnt nose,
little giddy affections.
oh God, save me.
but You won't let me run.
You've hedged me in with blessing.
what EVER am i suppose to do here.
it's all too good & i don't know how to handle.
You're teaching me to lean and steward,
in the midst of glitter and glamor.
and it's good. all so very good.
good, good, good, good, good...
as it rollllls off the tongue like those
middle-eastern chants that make you feel
peacefully drowsy.
lay my head upon the silky down pillow.
the grass is green. the passive waters billow.
but it's not them over there.
the sweet wines i've been given
it's me.
for they are good.
all so very good.
but i'm not so good.
i want to burn.
i was made to burn.
a human torch.
singed, seared, sizzled, scalded.
[but You say pain isn't the only way,
but suffering's my comfort.
self-pity my crown.
i feel safer with nothin'
because somethings come with requirements
and you can't screw up where there's no happy sentiments
filling
up
the space.
i'm still drowning in perfectionist despair
Aye
KAY
Aye
the pride of men cloaked in frills and fair
skinnnn.]
watch me run from who I am.
while seeing the skyline of what He's said
and
at times.
and
at times.
i can be fully alive.
and then the clock strikes noon -
i bury my head in the sand.
i don't want to feel lethargy on my soul.
i was made to create; generate.
i don't want to grasp for shadows, only shadows.
i was made to climb this mountain.
i don't want to excuse lack of spiritual violence.
i was made to burn DOWN bridges.
i don't want to reject the goodness of God.
i was made to ignite the masses.
i don't want to forsake the wilderness.
OH.hhhh
how do i walk this narrow way with no more hair to chop off,
and no more treasures to flee,
and i'm out of egypt.
God knows, egypt's days and days ago...
barely a memory caressing the soul.
oh but the confrontation of an EMPTY womb
that you find in the wilderness
this must be the wilderness.
oh the wilderness.
sarai understands.
watch her laugh.
i suck at the wilderness.
building idol calves of gold
back and forth
to and fro
i'm only twenty-one.
and so was peter.
i'm a female water walker
or a daughter of thunder.
"let me sit with you in the kingdom."
"you don't know what you ask."
"let's call down fire from heaven."
"take care of my mother.
i'll take you to heaven.
you'll see revival."
"tell me Your secrets."
"get behind me Satan."
"You are Christ, the Son of the living God."
"i don't know that Man."
i am His lover.
i need a fiery Pentecost.
a baptism of flame.
a holy inferno.
an impartation of power.
because these
hours turn into days turn into weeks turn into months.
time flies by like the childhood train
as my hair flows over my face
and i hide from the track
it's june 17th.
what have i done with my time?
i was made to BURN.
[and you said to tarry in this place]
sometimes i wish it wasn't just Him and I, I and Him,
in this garden. so some sweet little lady could read me a story
(my garden feels lonely)
because i'm so barren. so full of nothingness.
what can i offer?
i can't even love without a flame licking this cavern.
so He's gotta come and
SET ME ON FIRE
He's gotta come and
MAKE ME BURN
because something OUTSIDE of myself
is what i gotta have. the Desire of Nations.
i'm inquiring for my apathetic emancipation.
even though He's coming
to SHAKE IT ALL UP
it's not enough.
it's not enough.
I gotta drown in love.
I gotta drown in His touch.
I gotta drown in LITERAL ROMANCE.
wild dance.
cut away this tranccccccccccce
lookin' inward.
I gotta be
SET ON FIRE
I gotta have Him come and
MAKE ME BURN.
oh slumber feels good until i wake up
and then it hurts.
i hit my head on the ceiling.
i don't want to be taken over.
i want to cry with Him in the garden.
where did my Beloved go?
i want to swing with Him on the mountain.
where did my Beloved go?
i see His eyes in the sunrise
i feel His kisses in the rain
your Word isn't breathing
or so it feels...
i am so starvvvving.
can i tie myself to You
i don't trust myself not to run.
watch me go now,
arms flinging, feet thumping,
fear: the clearing through the trees.
you think I'm a good woman.
but i'm full of delightful inconsistencies
without the delight.
i feel the chaff blowing away.
i'm reaching for Your fire.
i count it all as lost.
i think.
i want to.
define me by desire.
you have
you have to
COME
and
SET ME ON FIRE.
[when I find You, I will hold You and never let You go.
I can't ever let You go.]
