The motion of the emotions
flowing through his veins
Screaming in his head
bleeding out the pain

The dazzled days of summer
egregious in their sins
Strip off the sunburst animus
down to blacken skin

The waves crash down upon him
Reeking winds of change
From the ashes of the heat
the phoenix rise again

The plumage new and pure
There is a sparkle in the eye
Ancient knowledge collected
to the questions why

Everyone a phoenix
Yes each and all so true
Stand up from amidst the ashes
God does want you to

I was lost upon the sea
Floundering in the waves
No one there to rescue me
Filthy and depraved
So deaf and blind I could not see
The black heart of a knave
Bowed under iniquity
I was, to it, a slave
Waves splashed over on the lea
To port only the grave.

There's only blackness in the sky
No moon. No clouds. No stars.
Like the pupil of an eye
A firmerment of tar
The water's where the dead fish lie
To horizons far
You hold your head & cry
Then a figure walks to mar
I squinted to see, tried
His hands & feet are scarred.

I was not sure that I perceived
The silhouette out there
To drowning men a straw received
Seems a saving hand so fair!
Though my boat was clogged with weeds
I found a paddle I could bare
I moved my boat, it weaved
Toward the man I stared!

There he was, an apparition
Brighter than the sun
I paddled on as on a mission
Dank air filled my lungs
But my disease was in remission
My journey had begun
He spoke to me. I HAD TO LISTEN VICTORY TO BE WON

And so I walked upon the water
You may find this odd
I heard The Words. I am His daughter

And HE'S ALMIGHTY GOD.

Catherine Jarvis
(C) 6/27/2020

All Your ways are truth Lord
in righteousness You dwell
You heal the unforgiven Lord
and make the sick ones well;
You make the mountains high Lord
and the valleys sweet and low
You make my heart at peace Lord
and make all waters flow;
You bless the faithful people
Your power keeps them safe
the winds of trouble still do blow
but they no longer chafe;
You are the way to heaven Lord
and the the glory is all Yours
You make Yourself available
to those inside Your doors;
The Prince of Peace is Your crown
all else is mass disorder
I thank You Father for Your call
within salvation's border.

This world is hard to bear Lord,
when no one speaks Your name;
when they shun the church Lord,
and pitch and toss the blame.
That our president is crazy,
and the cops are not our friend;
that we can sort it out this time,
where does the madness end?
When will we pay attention,
and note the futile plans;
nothing more is gained, but lost
according to men's plans.
When will the nations realize,
without Him, we are lost;
and were headed for oblivion,
regardless of the cost?
The world is sliding down the tubes,
confusion in the streets;
with chaos in the cities Lord,
and where the suburbs meet.

Don't bother to knock, she's
not taking any visitors today
--something has to give.

You wanted her
in your picture, didn't you?
But the names they assigned her
were uncommonly harsh.

They hung their hats
on her *** appeal, then
threw her to the dogs
when she no longer looked the part.

She never did overcome
her shyness, preferring to
swallow small silent friends
instead, and for this
she was crucified.

Pin-up or shut-in,
it's no wonder she chose to
sleep it off.

She may have bared
her body, but never her soul.

there’s an open
wound on main street
and i wish people would
stop asking about it
because every question pulls
the hole a little wider

something was always
just a little bit
wrong

a constant drip
in the fridge

a fruit fly trapped
in the bake case

missing corners
of floor tiles

pictures hanging
slightly crooked

one foot of a table
unscrewed to a wobble

the rattle
of the heater

smiles from those
i couldn’t trust

a tiny pinprick of
stress behind my eyes

every year was
the year that would
make it or break it

so nobody was
surprised
except those who
couldn’t see the scuffs

last year
things were supposed
to be so good
everyone talking
mad **** about their
incredible ideas

i had a few
ideas of my own
nobody ever had to
teach me how to
dream big
overachieve
overexert myself
and fall hard

the quiche crusts stuck
to the bottoms of pans

and there was no way to
get the slice out
without the whole entire
thing falling apart

i might have been
the first slice to go

but at least i got
out of there

before the hand that
pulled me out
was the hand that
dropped the pan

a glass pie plate
shattered and
the way things were
supposed to be suddenly

over
just
like
that

and i’m still
reeling
on the sidewalk
staring at the
empty shell of
something i once loved

big hopes
big dreams
big plans
small town
too small to
hold them all

every piece of my
future points
backwards
arms of a clock
working their way
into the past

it’s not in how
the damage was done
but in how you
heal from it

there’s an
open wound on
main street
maybe if we gave
south street stitches
we could pull it closed

but still i question
my existence as if
scones and coffee
and thursday mornings
before sunup were
the only things that
gave me
stability

maybe
they were

maybe people
pull themselves into
an orbit around that
which keeps them grounded

an orbit of
routine and the
dissonance needed
to stir ice cubes
in a plastic cup
to create peace
in the moment
of chaos

or maybe
the one place
that always felt
like home to me
was just a cafe
on the four corners
and now there’s
an open wound
not so much
on main street
but the pocket of my
heart where hope lives

I was quite simple,
But
I became worst
when
She said - "you are wrong"