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| A noisy struggle transpires within
Voices clamoring, vying for prominence.
Echoes of critique haunt a disconsolate heart.
I am a failure.
I am unlovable.
I am not good enough.
Damning words ravage my spirit.
They resonate with untruth
And debilitate my able limbs.
I am a slave to these voices –
Some emanate from the lips of others,
But most emerge from a nagging conscience gone limp.
Cruel voices, trapped voices –
Reveal the want of a little boy.
A little affirmation will make his day,
Any affirmation will make his day.
Dad, will you ever be proud of me?
Will you ever be proud of the man I am today?
Will you ever be proud of the man I am becoming?
His eyes are cold and steely,
Like darkened iron, slightly damp.
“I will only be proud of you, if…”
If…
In if, lies the window into another man’s soul.
I peer into those same iron eyes,
And I am pressed by the weight of history.
I now hear the voices that torment his psyche
His eyes, his voices –
They reveal the want of a little boy.
A little affirmation will make his day,
Any affirmation will make his day.
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| Remove my mask of decorum
Worn to avoid my foibles,
Saddled to cover my shame.
My shell belies my center;
I cower when soul is harried.
A Father’s heart, a Father’s love
Peels away the crackling crust
Of my ceramic disguise.
Embrace, come crush my pretense
and warm my bare face, skin-to-skin.
Now to breathe and to walk is new,
But will exposure mean pain?
Or will disclosure give life?
Rawness sounds fearful to me,
But rawness spells freedom for me. | | |
| Discontented heart of mine
teased with mirages
of plentiful springs
yet suckered again
by vapid nothings.
Weary from the Search
wandering prayers that sink
into wells of deep sorrow.
My heart, be loosed from
The chastened meanderings
for elusive Love.
Instead, pry open
for prodding and cajoling.
For I will not find,
until I am found,
please ransack my heart, oh Love,
and corral me now. | | |
| Clumsy feelings I possess-
They touch and torch with indiscriminate fancy.
A riot of emotions erupts within me,
Rustling untamed, unbridled
Like flustered creatures
trapped in steel cages.
When expressed, my joy can cheer
and my sympathy can heal.
My anger destroy;
my sadness spoil.
My tongue bows to each sensation of the moment,
Powerless when pathos dawns with whistling fury.
But can anger cheer
and sadness heal?
“Of course not,” I hear,
“those affections spew bitter poison.”
Yet a True Man feels my rage
and absorbs my wrath,
Rejecting not the noise of troubled sentiments,
But calmly soothing and quieting the riot
while distilling my pain.
Transform my manner of fervor to words.
Make it free but controlled,
True but gracious.
May I not bow to ardor
that teeters and turns,
But may I bow to Love
That teaches my excitable heart to walk exactly.
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