To Be Yours

It’s a desire to be in more than one place at a time
not a fear of missing out, but a fear of time
The quickness of it, and the thought of am I doing enough?
being enough, loving well enough?
Never enough and that’s the core of it all
My actions don’t satisfy my debts, my words
don’t earn your approval
My life could decrease in works and increase in mess
and you’d love me all the same

I would make it work the other way, if I were God
I don’t have thoughts on my own that are anything like yours
My thoughts are like dark roads covered in black ice
waiting for a chance to sneak in and crash up the movement of sanctification
If I were God, I’d say
the better you do, the better you are
and that would be more comfortable, knowing that my merit is earned
but I am not God, thank God

Instead, you give freely
and I come up short
you meet me

I am most at peace when given the opportunity to sit on the couch
with books and your word, and a hot cup of coffee
and I also feel anguish in those moments with the knowledge that I can’t
stay in this place for as long as I want
and among the peace there is also torment
the wrestling of my flesh, I just want to be more like you
I am not a savior though, I am simply saved

Simple in the sense that your blood is real and covers it all,
I long for your truth and the shaking off of my hindered perspective

My perspective that is hindered by the daily anxieties that I hate that I have
when I admit the things that truly worry me I am ashamed
Uneasiness rises within me at the sole thought of moving from one place to another
travel, food, sleep, furniture, finance, any ounce of change
I’m embarrassed by the concern that causes my chest to tighten,
I hold my breath when you’ve given me reason to breathe

When conviction runs rampant in my anxious heart,
I am left feeling defeated and undone
I crave to get every single idea and event inscribed on my internal calendar
and carried out into eternity but I fail
I fail to accomplish the simple things, and I have always been
compelled by the complex

This is an admittance of guilt for things that I should rightly feel guilty for,
but you told me that to set my mind on the flesh is death,
and to set my mind on the Spirit is life and peace
and I want to live

I want to live in utter admiration of your character,
letting this knowledge of you lead me away from darkness
the shadows of my heart and the way it sets my mind up for failure
Let compassion be an enabling emotion, leading me to
serve you out of freedom and genuine care for others
Let each day be counted as good because of your work
already finished
And in my lacking let your fullness be
illuminated

Slow my internal discourse, my outward speech
make a symphony out of my discomposure
and let me hear your voice above it all
saying

“Child, you are mine and that is enough.”

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A Phone Call Love Poem

I’m getting married in forty-eight days, so I think it’s about time for a love poem…

I’m currently in another bout of “minimalizing”
Feeling hopeful and encouraged, desiring to fill out the parts of life that are lacking
and empty the parts that are overbearing
And then you call, I answer the phone to hear your voice
Inexplicably wonderful, the tone of your stringed syllables create comfort
You’re telling me about this new coffeeshop you have just discovered
In a place where we often speak of the voids, you’ve found something good
And you tell me how much I would like it
talk about the high ceilings, the marble countertops and the natural light
and you tell me that you want to take me there
and I say I want to be taken,
You can hardly catch your breath as you stumble through all of the details
that you want me to know before having to go
You’re miles from me and I miss you
and seeing you tomorrow is never soon enough
You’ve arrived and have to get off of the phone now
You tell me you love me and it’s believable
You are honest and I know you
and when the silence of my room begins to take over
and the faint music lingers to the left of me
and my room is a mess,
all I can do is thank God,
this God of the universe who has allowed me to know you
to adore you and to be admired by you

The world will tell me that I need more, that I don’t have enough
but you are my world and with you, I have everything
Let this gratitude of your presence be an everlasting decision
not a fleeting feeling,
you are more valuable, more tangible, more incredible
than my words could describe, or all of the world’s offerings,
you are more enticing than
any place I’ll travel
more precious than any amount of days I have ahead,
I’ll keep on answering your calls, my dear
and I’ll love you for all of my days, my dear

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Still Intact

Let my words be large, let them overflow because my
Dreams are saturated and enlightened and I need to grab
on to something now

The man I love told me that my emotions are compulsive but my actions are methodical,
so let that be true, let me feel deeply but act in patience, in worthy commotion
I want to give, that’s the core of it
he said being selfish is exhausting and
everthing in me agrees

My heart is breaking and simultaneously being repaired,
each moment of realization that she is decaying
and too many things are toxic, and challenging
my heart sinks beneath the surface and succumbs to
hopelessness and then it rips its way back up to the
light again, strapping itself up with encouragement
My God is Greater, my eyes seek Heaven, my soul knows rest

So rolling forward with bandages on wounds, regaining strength with
Each new hope and possibility (solely found within the realm of
believing) I take my thoughts and I marinate them in truth and I speak
them back to myself as best as I can

I spent five days wandering hospital hallways,
I saw the brittleness of reality and the opposition of health,
And then I spent five days on the road, traveling with a dear soul and
I saw the world in ways I never have before
and even in new perspective I can get swallowed up in old trains of thought
and even in virginia mountains, tennessee alleys, and texas deserts
I can see that I am small but the desire to live greatly is embedded deep within me
I know that my sentience is only developed through experience

To live greatly does not mean largely,
no, I do not need more than I have
To live greatly means to live in empathy,
to live with kindness and a capacity to see differently,
to live with flexibility, I have my dreams but I’ll be alright if they
are taken from me
To live greatly is to live selflessly, to stop saying “God make something of me”
and to begin to live in the identity that He has already given me
Free, adored, consecrated, new

I am new each morning because of His redeeming glance towards me,
and how can I avoid speaking about this grace in my poetry?
It is the greatest thing, and with all of this ridding of the unnecessary I am left
with the bare bones of life and my God is the spine

My grandmother has called me her Rock, but I am a small stone
her life has been full and I try to absorb
every sound that echoes from her,
from the spoken memories of her Italian childhood,
to the movements that she makes
when the sun is first rising, and I can hear her slippers shuffling
through the crack of the door of our shared bathroom

Time is fleeting and my small revelations of existing cannot slow it down,
with an aching heart I’ve read love letters of past lives, I’ve watched new
uncertainties develop, I’ve seen injustice rise up like a plague,
I’ve gotten swept away in worry, doubt, and fear
and through all of these things, Time is fleeting

Let my heart break and be repaired, the days will follow as they always do
let my shaky voice settle in the confidence that this place is not our final home
let my prayers be consistent and ever reigning over the temptation to stay discouraged
To live greatly is to live overwhelmed and still intact

san francisco: day two

begin:

morning turned into afternoon
started with clouds, welcomed by sun
shining on the mission,
perfectly lonely walks on unfamiliar streets

book stores and markets,
what ever happened to this simplicity,
being the only thing?

I take this city in with deep inhales
and it’s a shame that some feelings can never stay
and it’s a shame that some feelings can’t be made into words
all I want is to make these feelings words that are
written
and invincible, that cannot be take away by time
or things visible

found a perfect spot,
a perfect view stuck in between dehon and 16th;
homes on a hill
maybe we can make feelings last longer if we share them with somebody,
but it’s hard for me to believe that anyone else could feel the same thing,
the same odd nostalgia provoked by a place you’ve never been, never seen.

lunch:

it was a struggle to choose,
a place to be still and consume
to sit down and have lunch alone
lonely feels good sometimes
especially when you can watch the people across the street
dance and carry out dialogue,
and laugh when someone throws an empty crumpled can out of their two story window,
and it lands on their head.

my server smiled,
and he enjoyed life
in some people you can see happiness
i don’t think there is a better trait to have

bus:

I accidentally sat in the seats reserved for seniors or the handicapped,
by the time I realized the handful of signs indicating my sin
I was too timid to stand up and relocate
It’s funny how social situations can end up so symbolic
and I hope this incident doesn’t symbolize me

anyways, I’m glad I had taken the seat
(I would’ve moved if it was needed)
I was able to see out all three of the windows!
and the way the city slides
and the bus driver mutters
makes for a good ride

later:

a day spent roaming in the mission,
between valencia and guerrero streets,
between shops that sell vinyls and film,
turned into an evening lit by a documentary of woody allen
then lit by the city lights seen from the top or potrero hill
with really great tacos followed by churros dipped in chocolate sauce
to end another day,
in sweet san francisco

san francisco: day one

getting here:

I noticed that I was a lot more excited
than everyone else on the plane
that I was a lot more anxious
a lot more awkward
and when I tried to make small talk with the man next to me
I noticed that he didn’t really care to acknowledge
anything other than
his sports and news displayed on the too small, too close
built in tv on the back of the seat in front of his
too small, too close knees
I don’t think he was excited to be
on the plane,
not as excited as I was.

here:

I was not prepared
for the speed of the revolving
belts at the baggage claim

reunited:

it’s a great thing, to like the people that you love

san francisco:

I pointed out the trees, and the
self storage buildings
in fear that the all together glorious lights and curves of
san francisco
would haunt me in my sleep
the kind of haunting that
feels wonderful and inspring
twin peak
your view was covered in fog
but the orange and white lights standing out against the black
blanket of dark and darker night
made no sound but
jaw-dropping, breath-taking, igniting
and welcoming sounds
“welcome to san francisco”
said the people around me, not verbally but something in between
some kind of connecting thoughts
that only I, with fresh eyes, could think

morning:

french toast topped with granola and cranberries,
this city is topped with granola and cranberries

afternoon:

mixed up buildings and bound up walls,
colors like teal and butter
homes laid down together closer than bricks
and windows wide open
and a sore neck, from all of the sights

sutro heights,
you were beautiful at first
then you were heaven
caves made of tree branches and soil that
smell like the way steinbeck writes about a bountiful nature
and an ocean beneath the golden gate bridge
terrifying and unyielding
to the rigid edge of the coast
and all things powerful, didn’t seem so powerful anymore

hawk hill,
you were tall at first
then you were soaring
and so was I, gathered up and small at the top of a great tower
but large in the fog that creeps  through the film famous roads

evening:

polk gulch  and lombard street to follow-
pizza tastes great after an adventure,
I’m still in awe of these homes
picking out my favorites
and coating them in “somedays” and “so greats”

end:

of day one and i’m in love

for the sake of travel, for the sake of life

let’s go to the big city

let’s forget about our jobs, and the concept of money.

let’s take the car, and enjoy the drive

even if it lasts our whole lives.

because today the pastor talked about the end times,

and he referenced our monsters and troubles,

and the monster i saw was huge indeed

but instead of ten horns he was wearing a cloak of habit:

habitual anxiety, habitual boredom, and habitual lack of joy.

let’s go to the towns with character, and if we can’t leave in the morning

we can make our own towns have personality tonight

let’s decide to love our lives, and be able to reply with a different saying then

“it’s alright”

let’s stop hesitating to discover, to emerge ourselves in cold water,

for once let’s be extreme, and even if it turns out bad let’s not lose sleep.

and i say this because i’ve got big dreams,

i say this because i love good feelings and the way this heat has inspired an

art of living.

so you go and i’ll be happy for you,

but i won’t wait for my “time”.

if i can’t get out now, i’ve decided that this is my “prime”,

because each morning i wake up and each night i lay down,

i’ve noticed my time to be filled with empty minutes, empty hours.

so i’ll sit with the boy all by himself,

i’ll open the windows and turn off the air,

i’ll pull out the paint and put up my hair,

and the only thing i’ll wait upon is the word of my god,

and the rest i’ll take on with insight and excitement,

hope and enlightenment.