Seeing through the eyes of others

poetry and writings based on the truth of life. Everyone sees through their own lenses. Trade glasses with someone else and view your world…and theirs. I write personal, I write upon request and not limited to one area, genre, or style

believing

  • Open your heart

    I think stepping forward frightens people because it means leaving behind the things they know, even when those things have already finished their work in their lives Familiar things have a way of holding on to us all. Sometimes people live on old memories as though they are enough to carry them through the cold,… Read more

  • She is home

    Longing for wholeness, searching for love;to be one, to be united, to be free, to be safe She walks the shores of doubt, yet carries a quiet hope within her, nothing but clouds, breezes, and damp earth beneath her feet Then: His voice She stops She turns She runs to him At last, she glances… Read more

  • You pulled the pin!

    “God is still working on me” is not a free pass to keep doing what you already know is wrong.There should be a clear break from old ways,towards a direction that is unmistakable.If nothing is changing, if there is no resistance against sin, no conviction, no desire to turn, then something is off, no matter… Read more

  • build it

    Grief has a way of making a room out of the body, and asking us to live there, We learn the shape of silence the weight of a phone not ringing the chair that stays occupied by absenceStill, we keep going, not because we are strong but because the morning arrives and asks for our… Read more

  • xenodochy

    the weight settles softly, inside the chest, inside the breathsomething unnamed aches, without edges, without reasonit lingers quietly, asking nothing, taking space days blur together, carried by habit, carried by strainwe move through hours, half present, half fadingstill something reaches, even in the dullness, even in the hurt a stranger appears, fragile and distant, yet… Read more

  • Truth, not embarrassing,

    Being dependable quietly became my identity, and somewhere along the way I trained myself to swallow my own needs so I wouldn’t disappoint anyone. Not my parents or Grandparents, but people: MaybeChurch folk who never found good in any or always had to gossip, complain and whine like nursing babies on dumb-titsOrFolks in the community,… Read more

  • The prairie or The heart

    The wind does not argue here; it instructs!It moves across the plains like a careful lecturer, measuring its sentences in grass and dust. Red earth keeps its counsel beneath our feet, iron rich and quietly persuasive, a text older than any syllabus We learn by looking outward first, fence lines, weather, the patient geometry of… Read more