trembling but roaring


x x x


 and in the dark of night we will plant a stake
in concrete rubble and ashes

stating our name as I HAVE MADE IT THIS FAR


because this dark, it's not going to take us over.
we are going to wield the shadows
and turn lungs-searching-for-air, confused minds,
into battle cries
of HOPE 
    and LIFE.

this night isn't the end, friend.
this is the starting line.


the practice of giving thanks

the practice of giving thanks for each
is a habit both hard and simple
it first takes noticing each
inhale and exhale
feeling lungs expand
leaves tremble
it's a skill formed after time and time again
most refined when lost, then found again

be sure to practice, both thanks, and giving

(thank You for this chest and heart and breath and feeling)


we won't give up on hope, on life

it's so easy to let the weight on our shoulders weigh down our hope,
to let the shadows blow out the lights in our eyes;
it's faster to fade into dark hollow islands
than to stay out in the sunshine
where the air is warm, breeze - gentle, cool -
and hands held up high together;
staying together is hard, filling lungs with air, even harder,
but i want you to know a little secret -
we're not going to give up on hope.
we won't allow that to happen -
hope will win this battle.
we just have to remain conscious to celebrate with eyes wide open
and hearts deep screaming joy.
stay with us. stay with me.
don't give up this fight.


august 01 / broken / ocean

like a wave that loses it's grandeur when it hits the ocean floor
so my heart was when you left it
like the ocean when the moon calls her name toward shoreline
and borders
so my heart surged with life, with power, on strings of chains broken


new / purpose / home

there's nothing new under
the sun
these words have been
written before
these feelings have been felt
maybe, just in different
any / either way, i was sitting out at the
edge of the
earth today
staring into oblivion
when i was asked the questions,
who are you, why are you here,
and i didn't know how to answer them
so i jumped off the pier, into the swirling
the wind whipping my salty hair,
ripping my heart in two;
the wind howled, loud and muffled,
bass shaking bones, i tumbled and trembled.

it's hard facing myself in the mirror, when i'm unsure
of purpose, what my worth is,
i try to measure myself next to the ocean,
if only i could be more like her.
strong and calm and divisive and healing,
never ending.
i told her i admired her
she blushed deep green hues,
retreated to the end of the world
and rushed back with gifts of quiet chaos and
overwhelming peace -
she's captivating like that.

if you're ever confused, go to the coastline,
sink your hands in the sand, like a dying man,
and listen to the sound of God's heart surging toward you;
feel His breath - inhale exhale - dancing on your skin, shaking the earth.
look out into a fraction of His magnitude -
it's in the unknown, i find home.



worn. tired. a little lost at sea,
maybe. the north star is hard to find in the dark.


forward / nos·tal·gia / fin



i don't really have many words, to go along with these. except that this last year at camp was a time to grow - it ended up being that longed-for-but-didn't-think-was-needed-but-was-actually-really-needed transition from one season of life to this next one; lots of reflection, and forward-looking, expecting.
it was good. quiet, and a little nostalgic (who am i kidding, it was really nostalgic), and filled with peace. a lot of peace, of the other-worldly kind. it was nice.