Your voice haunts me

Your voice haunts me.

 

It wails silently hidden behind the ages.

I hear it break through.

Tearfully, mournfully, sinfully.

 

Your voice haunts me.

 

It reminds me of when you last spoke to me.

Like the first time.

It pierces my heart

and

dominates my soul.

 

Your voice haunts me.

 

It calls me back

to another place

in

another time

only to be forgotten

so long ago.

 

Your voice haunts me.

 

Stop it.

Stop calling me.

Stop drawing me back in

to a place

of non-existence

where only hurt and pain

reside.

 

Your voice haunts me.

 

It echoes in the deepest chambers of my heart.

It reverberates like a call from the wild

in the middle of a cold

winter’s night.

 

Your voice haunts me.

 

It sings a song that

tantalizes me into thinking

that maybe,

just this once,

that maybe,

you stand in front of me

still.

 

Your voice haunts me.

 

And, I stop and cry.

I cry the tears of the unknown

who hear the voice

that pulls

them out of their reality

into the deepest of their

felt humanity.

 

And, I stop and cry.

 

Because it is you.

On being lost

I am lost.

I don’t know where to begin to set off.

Don’t you know that feeling?

 

That feeling of nothingness

like blank paper and no words?

 

I am lost.

I feel as if I am in a vast sea

with no shore in sight.

Don’t you know that feeling?

 

That feeling of floating

with nothing holding you up?

 

I am lost.

You are gone.

I turn to look

but it is not you.

Don’t you know that feeling?

 

That feeling

when you are sitting desperately alone

for the first time since the last time?

 

I am lost.

Like the clouds in the sky

that randomly float in

no particular pattern

carried by the winds.

Don’t you know that feeling?

 

That feeling of

blue sky and whitewash

on a partly cloudy late summer afternoon?

 

I am lost.

Tears roll down my face

silently, slowly, hauntingly.

Don’t you know that feeling?

 

That feeling

when there is nothing else left to feel

but solitary confinement in your own

cell-like thoughts?

 

I am lost.

I wonder when you will come back to me.

Sadness takes over my being

like a sax in the middle of a solo

lamenting to the darkness.

Don’t you know that feeling?

 

That feeling

when it is all gone and nothing is left?

 

I am lost.

I want to lose myself

but yet life

calls me back.

And, I comply.

 

Don’t you know that feeling?

Again,

don’t you know that feeling?

 

I beg of you.

Don’t you know that feeling?

In the silence

In the silence,

I hear your breath

slowly inhaling

slowly exhaling.

 

In the silence,

I wonder

where you have been

all this time.

 

In the silence,

a soft prayer falls off my lips

hanging in the deadness

of the night

like a heavy

weight.

 

In the silence,

I feel so alone,

wrapped in a cocoon

of both fiction and fact,

none of it real,

all just illusion.

 

In the silence,

I wonder how I will ever exist

beyond what I have only known.

 

In the silence,

I weep

over love lost

and shamed

secrets

that haunt me still.

 

In the silence,

I hunger to do good

to everyone and everything

in atonement for the

hurt

and the

pain

that I caused

when I didn’t know.

 

In the silence,

I remember that time,

full of guilt and remorse

when I tried,

entering near death

but yet still alive.

 

In the silence,

I cast away

my hope

where it lands on

an empty rocky shore

washed into a crevice.

never to see the light.

 

In the silence,

I pray

for the ending

of all the endless tears wept

so easily

deep within my soul.

 

In the silence,

I know that

I don’t exist.

I survive.

I endure.

 

In the silence,

I hear your breath

slowly inhaling

slowly exhaling.

 

In the silence,

I am prisoner

in a life I didn’t want

wearing chains that

were not mine

in a cell that binds me still.

 

 

O Israel, O Israel

Along the sea of Galilee,

my eyes scan the horizon.

My heart beats anew.

 

I stare out in absolute wonder and amazement.

The rain softly falls on me.

Caressing my age.

 

I am here.

I have arrived.

I am home.

 

Home to belief, forgiveness, and possibility.

I am home.

 

O Israel, O Israel.

 

Along the sea of Galilee,

I feel deep inside.

a peace that settles in my life.

It envelopes me in its embrace.

 

I am here.

I have arrived.

I am home.

 

Home to the next chapter, a new life, more possibilities.

I am home.

 

O Israel, O Israel.

 

Along the sea of Galilee,

I stare off into the distance.

Imagining the miracles of a prophet

long ago.

 

And, witnessing the miracle of my own

transformation

today.

 

I am here.

I have arrived.

I am home.

 

Home to miracles of transformation and transfiguration.

How I long for you,

like a lover longs to be loved.

 

Along the sea of Galilee,

I stare off into the distance.

I no longer am who I once was.

Nor who I once was is who I am.

 

O Israel, O Israel.

 

I shall never be the same.

 

The Sea of Galilee from Tiberias – January 2018

IMG_1988IMG_3851

 

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I wonder…

I wonder.

I wonder what would happen

if I shed the layers of

things

that hold me down.

 

I wonder.

I wonder what would happen

if I shed the limited

thinking

that keeps me imprisoned

in self-shame and

disbelief.

 

I wonder.

I wonder what would happen

if I looked at wonder

at the clouds in the sky

loving all that is creation.

 

I wonder.

I wonder what would happen

if I looked at wonder

at the words that I penned

and the

questions that I ask.

 

I wonder.

I wonder what would happen

if I focused less on

illusions

and more on

Divine nature.

 

I wonder.

Do you wonder too?

 

Quote

I am a pilgrim

I am a pilgrim.

I set out in time and space,

hearing a call that only I could hear.

 

All that was old,

no longer remains.

Shed like winter garments

on the first hot late-spring day.

 

Who am I?

I know not.

 

I don’t recognize the face.

The jaunt in my step.

The voice that speaks from depths.

 

Little by little,

moment by moment,

time etches away

the last vestments of a fragile existence.

 

Allowing a shining, new, radiant being

to burst forth

after a time of gestation

in an almost

motherly womb.

 

Who am I?

I know not.

 

What seemed not to be happening

was happening.

Over and over,

day by day,

moment by moment,

until that one instance

 

when I realized that I had arrived.

 

I walked through dark valleys,

questioned deep motives,

cried endless rivers,

and submerged myself in dark silence.

 

And, in the end, I have arisen,

like the morning sun

who stretches slowly

across the horizon,

day after day

sometimes hidden by clouds,

sometimes brilliant with light,

but always still there.

 

I have a new name.

I know who I am.

 

I have shed her.

She is gone.

She lives no more.

 

Here I am.

Here I am.

Here I am.

 

A pilgrim

living in the freedom of what

yet lies ahead

by casting off into a deep ocean

all that was.

 

Transformed by every etching.

I am so alone

There lying still underneath

the cloak of my

egocentric exterior

lies a lonely soul

seeking companionship

in a world that values

idols and false images.

 

I am so alone.

 

I wait for rebirth

for new beginnings

but yet I fear

that my time has past

in a time of my life

where I slowly slip

into the narrow channel

of a deepening age.

 

I am so alone.

 

I thought of my youth

just the other day

and all I took for granted

and let slip by

as I mourn the passing

of lost opportunities

and chances

of moments of bliss

and deeply passionate encounters.

 

I am so alone.

 

I wait for the unexpected spark

lit unknowingly in the middle of a

deep and dark night

when an ember turns into a flame

like a match sets a fire

to something that has been concealed for far too long.

 

I am so alone.