So you step back & ask

 "Can't she save me?

  Can't he save me?"

The gods yell NO

And you scream YES

And the fire overwhelms.

     It's a sacrifice

You're the sacrifice 

   "And no one can

      save you now"

mutters the gods to you, but also to themselves.

If fire burns brightly &

   then you turn to dust

won't you shine for me

won't your fire

      catch me too?

Can you light my life

    I'll take the risk

          We disappear

Won't you be here?

   Won't you be near?

Can you stand in between

   me & my fear?

can you catch me 

        off guard

can i catch you when

      you fall

Let's take the plunge

   And maybe we'll find


And maybe you'll find 


And perhaps this world,

 this life, will mean something

   to us after all

A Poet Defined (But Not Really)

I am a poet. And I find it frightening that there are those who do not understanding the meaning of poetry – those who write words without meaning, those who write words and claim it to be poetry but it does not come from the truth bearing down on their soul. But the only way to be a poet is to be a poet. This is not a learned trait by any means.

A poet knows she is a poet. If there are words to define what a poet should be it is nonsensical as poets are the ones who give words new meanings and poets are the ones who define what their words mean.

I am a poet because I express myself and I CAN rhyme, though I do not always and I CAN add just the right amount of rhythm to make you listen to me and make you think that I know what I am talking about.

I know I am a poet because when I read my heart out to a crowd I have been told that I gave them shivers. I know I am a poet because my heart is screaming it so loud that other people can hear it saying

I am a poet

And there is bad poetry. And I have written the most terrible poetry but the secret of a poet is to take it with a grain of salt and continue to express what your heart is screaming.

Poet! Here lies a poet!

And I believe that my best poems are either forgotten or do not make sense to anyone at all, not even me. I believe that poetry connects in the heart not in the words… but words are used and must be used just right to connect those feelings. Rhyme does not make a poet. Heart makes a poet. I am a poet.

And as one, my poems may not always be good poems. They may be terrible and awful and everything negative. And I am not claiming that an open heart is all that makes a poet. A poet is someone who can conform to what we believe poetry is and then throw it by the wayside. A poet is someone who defines poetry by the specs of their lips and the tips of the fingers.

And I will stand in my bathroom and say words that no one will ever hear again. But a poet does not need an audience. A poet does not need the self-righteousness claims of others screaming in their ears. I am not claiming to be an excellent poet but I am claiming to be A poet.

Am I The Only One Lost?

Do you have to be a member to be enrolled?
Do you have to love Jesus to stand the crowd?
Do you have to sign papers to get to heaven?
Must water cover your face to be friends with God?

We stand so confused, struggling with our reactions
Because the Jesus I know wasn’t taught in Sunday school
But I’ll keep trying to stumble and find my own way
Because none of the paths I’ve heard sound quite right yet

One man is teaching and we’re all listening so
Sometimes I wonder who gave him authority there
Should this not be a group consensus or am I out of line?
For are not all of us equally and differently gifted from God?

I’ll walk into the doors with the sign of the cross
And I’ll try to stand and sit and follow their rules
But I just feel wrong and you’re charging a fee?
To become a member without speaking a word

I’m so sorry that through almost five years I still struggle
It seems like everyone else has their act altogether
So I feel alone at the foot of the cross because
Yeah I got Jesus, but am the only one lost?