Tag Archives: ForYou

You will

It’s been days, weeks, months, and years,
of trying, struggling, and pressing through the tears.
You can barely breathe, but you’re still breathing,
hardly able to think, and yet still living.
Don’t lose hope now, don’t give up.
Fight another day, you’ve come this far.
Don’t back down now, don’t give in
To the voices that beckon you to leaving.
You will journey on, with grace and strength,
With your heart laid open, for love to repair
All the parts of you, broken and bare.
You will, trust me,
You will get there.

> Firsts

In life, our Firsts always seem to build a special home in our hearts – First school. First love. First job. First kiss. First car. First word.

But there is a Second that builds a roof over the First. A Second that brings perspective, hope, and light.

And that is chance.
A Second chance at any Firsts opens a new door to that desecrated home in our hearts, mends that broken window and seals that leaking pipe. Take the chance & may your Seconds be greater than your Firsts.

My first poem was of love, and my first article spoke of love. My first sermon was grounded on love, my first prayer was for love.

Love. The Love that gripped my heart beyond any love possibly can, the Love that told me who I am and breathed life into this body that is passing away as days go by.

Love told me that words matter, these words that He gave me. He reminded me, once again, that writing is not only about speaking to people, but also about speaking about Him in a world where the Word has been diluted to quotable quotes. There is great depth in the Word.

So it doesn’t matter how many times we have failed or have given up, but it matters that we get back up. To stand up again. To write again. To speak again. To dance again. To try again.

Second chance, third, fourth, fifth. Never stop getting back up.

I Wonder If You Notice

A poem written on the train.

His hand finds its way to her back, large enough that it almost covers her left shoulder blade.
I wonder if she notices how he does that every time the train arrives at or leaves a station,
As if his palm is her resting place, just in case she falls backwards whenever the train jerks forwards.
His eyes gently grazes the translucence of her skin, and his fingers intertwines with her hair.
I wonder if she notices.

—

His mouth hangs wide open as his head rubs against the previous passengers’ hair stain on the window.
His shirt crumpled from a day’s work, and yet neatly buttoned and tucked in.
I wonder if he notices the frown on his forehead that is so prominent even in his sleep,
As if he is perpetually worried about his work, or family, or
Maybe beneath that worn-out work attire, he has a heart that is longing for his wife and children at home.
I wonder if he notices that.

—
Her hair falls almost perfectly upon her fair shoulders — brown, big curls, beautiful-kinda messy.
The near perfection is the most fascinating sight.
I wonder if she notices the beauty in her eyes, and the elegance in her poise, as she lifts her eyes to look at her text.
Her slender fingers curls around her phone, and the subtle purse of her lips.
She might not believe that she’s a beauty, but I wonder if she has yet to notice that she is.

—
She rests her hand on his elbow, as his hand holds onto the steely cold pole.
As if she trusted more in his strength, than the sturdiness of her sole.
I wonder if he notices that she dressed up and made up for him,
clad in an electric blue dress that brought out her best.
I wonder if he notices.

Because I noticed all of these, and I’m glad I did.
That amidst the busyness of life, the bustle and shoving on the train,
I noticed beauty and love in you, strangers.
And I hope you’ll notice that beauty in yourselves too.