prior to hello again

she stood. i saw her smile through a windshield and yet her eyes did not cooperate with her mouth. it was sadness and i felt this thorn in my heart. i wanted to remain in the weakness of occupancy. yet in the absence will be gradations of our faith upon faith. one night we spoke of grace, our intolerable sins and the hope we have on horizons. i ate cold eggplant and vegetarian chicken with her among coughs that forced her empathy in more ways than others. so here we are apart. yet, i feel that it will be abbreviated...with our words, our photographs and the trinkets of prayers that will collage into something strangely and clumsily beautiful.

decrepit

the state of illness makes declensions of yourself. you no longer feel like the person you have come to know. your body weighs in differently, the way your voice trails in the midst of congestion. aches that burn joints. nose passages feel like rusted rash. you become more aware of the way your breathing that is halted by the hacking of bodily fluids that are too vulgar to imagine. yet, in the midst of it, you realize the wisdom that you are somewhat limited. your body although a magnificant creation is declining into the midst of regression and you are not the god that suppose you are. i read psalm 41 today and it reminded me that weakness returns us to a place that acknowledge that we need something larger than the proverbial "me." so, here i sit, with the weight of my body being afflicted and i look towards the divine one. the one who is more than me...and for a moment i am not distracted by my own sovereignty and i quietly breathe and remind myself you are the god that blesses the afflicted.

mourning

buried 

the weight of the lost in tidal mourning. this mourning...the eyes gasped with personal amputated families. a child buried. burning pyres. tarped bodies. kneeling heaving of wailing. hands outstretched. empty answered prayers. tears flooding the nations. candles melting tears.

My harp is tuned to mourning,

and my flute to the sound of wailing

Job 30:31

the appearance of the darkness of this era of history. bring forth a moment of quiet. i yearn for this mourning to turn to dancing. to be able to see beyond...oh my dearest Lord. Give us your son to your ailing world...and recall us to your afflictions...

the brutality of death...without hope and may we receive the mercy of witness...

"After the suffering of his soul,

he will see the light of life and be satisfied;

by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,

and he will bear their iniquities."

Isaiah 53:11

Dearest One, extend your pierced hands. hard of breath...join the world in this story...may your name Emmanuel (God with us) be more than the rebuilding of concrete, of towns but the home of hearts. where there is absence may you offer presence. where there are sinking heads may you provide a shoulder. where there is the loneliness of suffering, may you weep with them as you did at Lazarus's tomb...Jesus, I believe in you...that your arms are not too short...allow the manifestation of the gospel to be worthy of your name...this is my prayer...

in the center of this conflicted prayer I continue to whisper...

emmanuel

a newest year

reunion deferred 

crossing streets on the eve of another year...conflicted yearnings of destinations. i arrive upon a steel framed home. invited by a man name eric. his smile and welcome is filled with warmth. singular hallways give way to doubting invitees who neither know me and the weight of strangers' conversation bring dread. then there she is...sals, the arriving into her embrace and with weightless hands she takes me on this eve. i remember the winter's reflective heart. she looks beyond me. the night is filled with warmth...among people whom i have yet to discover. a woman tells me of atheist boyfriends, another tells me she is a "bad" christian while in my heart, i tell her i am too. reflecting on martial arts, chinatown youth and the elusiveness of rhythm among asians, assembly language, discovering a common thread of nyu, melody the hidden cat, champagne in plastic martini glasses, couture flowers, denied engagements, 12 minus one grape, irish dancing among drunken stupor of john lee hooker music, smoking menthol cigarettes with tempting scotch, a bend of discovery of meeting the other broken half, utah mormons, marking time with cell phones, wong kar wai postcards...there i was, seeking a destination and getting lost in the midst of all these faces. so beautiful and wanting to enter their lives but realizing the limitations of this life of mine. as this destination closes, she walks me out. and in the breathing of this home, she offers me three words of hope. and my heart's walls crumble as this girl, who hold such tenderness that drafts so much strength, she wishes me well and safety as i leave.

i abbreviate my other destinations.

as i end of destinations. i discover that i want to come home. home. within the walls of shelter. that envelopes. that says there is a reason. reason to arrive. music seems to pass over me and i sigh...i am home...abandoning all for this one...