Creative Writing

I know I’m not alone, but can’t shake the want for home, in the deepest sense.

Sojourners, in the mountains, on the plains and shores, each isolated, in our own way, nomads till we breathe our last, strangers in a foreign land.

This is torment, but it is good to see – good to see that our home cannot be here, wise to realize it is here that we must leave, no matter where we stay longest or settle most permanently.

Who will join us on the lonely road? I wish I could know. I wish I wasn’t by myself in this house, though I share it even now.

So much I can say, and so much I can do. So little, so little can I say to sow truth, in the way I know it.

So I will open my eyes and take it all in. Help me listen with all my mind. I wish to treasure my friends and fellow artists at heart. Creator, they mirror you, in so many ways. They know but do not acknowledge, and I am left bargaining with my soul and theirs.

To the Jew, and to the Greek, grant your salvation on this hilltop of boulders laced with wildflowers. I wish them to bloom forever, through an eternity of painted sunrises and morning praise.

Favorites Poetry

Open plans

Sanity, that necessity that feels like a lie,

Its neat suit and tie all pressed and crisp

Like some plaster wall in a new kitchen.

It’s no good…! I like open plans,

And this solidity stifles and muffles me.

Obliterate the barrier, and take life back

From cold schedule and confused focus.

But now that the concrete disintegrates,

The abstract has no form to inhabit and dies with it.

Spirit sinks restlessly and without solace

And even if the truth stands before me, it can no longer be grasped.