#40: Carry It Today

My 60 days of poetry is coming to an end. My work schedule has been crazy recently so I am missing about 15 days worth of stuff. More to come on this idea of today..but this is a raw exposition. Adding to the rig and the gig idea that I want to explain more in the months to come, but also coming to grips with my own broken life and how good God is in the process of change.

Embrace where you are now..that is all I feel is important to emphasize. Often you want what is current to go away and you end up in a different set of issues in the same current. Jesus prayed for us(John 17:15) to stay in this fallen broken world because that is what He did and He won. Unless you don’t believe you are to be like Him then you and I both fall into that temptation, but don’t. God is bigger then anything today throws at you but I feel like its important to still emphasize that today and the present moment is where all the drama unfolds. All of us have a story. I still have not released a lot of details into my own battles with mental illness and anxiety. It has come out in poetry in the last 9 years and actually that is when poetry became a practice when I wasn’t sleeping well. We all have a current. We all are up against the current.

My Reflection..

Thought we had something,
Thought it was just a click away,
Or a clique away, or a groupie away,
Or any kind of person standing next to
If it wasn’t for the rig,
I wouldn’t have worked this hard,
This hard to get here,
This fast to go to slow,
To ever find that sweet spot of
Peace that you always mentioned,
That I was recollected in,
All the days in orange town,
All the safety that I never found,
All the joy I had working at Trader
Joes, all the things that came with
Vegetables in rows,
All the beauty that Gina ever
Had, all the things I never could
Have dreamed of getting, not
Sex or a week of something close
But a simpler life,
The gig of a life that we were
Taught, that pride could never
Catch, that seemed to much
A trick, that made me into sort
Of a dick, and a jerk, and higher
Then everyone around me,
I, too open up on this blog,
But you deal with the smog,
You hit the traffic,
You have the traffic,
You hear yourself when everyone
You hear yourself when everyone
But why are these nights still broken?
How many steps to take before love
Has truly spoken?
Is God really as concerned with our
Sexual sin, and our selfish sin,
And our impatience that kills
The young person, that kills
The teen, that never comes clean
Because they live in fear?
Like, yes, the anger of my dad,
That messed a lot of things up,
But guess what world–now, I am
Grown up, I am 30, I am broken still,
But backwards fingers at backwards
Strangers, and even family members,

Church, or not, heathen or saint,
All of us have a lot to paint,
A lot more color to gain,
A lot less anger to carry,
And a whole new adventure that
Will still be scary,

I am addicted to trying to make sense,
To saying it right,
To getting inside all of your reactions,
To living for the moment and not
For eternity,
It all does matter,
Pain will scatter but so will
Does it still hurt when you look back?
It might for a long time,
But the older I get, the more precious
Days that I do not deserve,
The less I want to live backwards,
And live higher then others, or better,
Or even if I am right making that the
Only fight,
Love is not a feeling,
Nor is it the ceiling,
It has not limits,
It has my digits,
My number, my future,
My choices now are carved
Out loud, and isn’t that why it
Is never really love?
A clanging cymbal kind of life,
A one night stand with the
I want to be loud but only if
It is Jesus shining through,
It will remain a mess and a
Beautiful wretch of a tale to
Life will be Hell before the end,
But how much of it can you enjoy,
How much of it can you take in,
How much can you carry now,
On the rig, where I learned to dig,
And now I still carry that shovel,
He has the gavel, and the final
Verdict, and that Calvinistic elect
Kind of feeling that sells books,
But never seems like enough of a
Sell, that sounds like Hell is where
We are headed and yet it can’t be
Fake, because love is not a mistake,
Or not never a choice, or never something
That someone doesn’t press into,

It is late,
And I am on the highway,
Driving towards destiny,
Living for one simple reality,
To live in eternity,
But it seems a trick,
It cannot just be a future
Click of a button, where all
Spoil and rotten cease,
Where anger passes,
Where every Hitler just
Explodes into dust,
Where there is suddenly
No more rust,

Today, today is what you have,
Today is what you carry,
Today is love’s device,
Embrace today,
That is my advice



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