Your future shines bright from the heavens
I wish you'd see it for yourself
But instead, I watch your sad eyes look back
on pasts and regrets
and also continue on with a smile

Your dear one is like a lost hunter
blind to direction, unsure of his prey.
Content, it seems, to stir up chaos,
spreading trouble near and far.
I already see where this story leads.
All I can do is stay grounded.
But he’s not hunting to survive
he’s hunting to ****.
And he doesn’t care
who gets hurt along the way.
God, please
don’t let him find my way.

Attend to your wounds,
mark your losses and
bear your scars - for each
borne wound is a win,
a sacrament mark
of survival worth
the celebrating,
worth wearing on your sleeve.

Jesus intended his wounds,
counted the cross a weight
worth bearing, not counting
his wounds a loss, but a cost
worth paying.

So, He now wears each wound,
each scar a sacrament,
a celebrated win,
because his wounds won you.

This world will throw you storms,
Sending shock waves to your knees.

They'll make you taste sugar.
Then watch you as you crumble.

They'll stake their claim.
Decide your name.

Tell you.
You're good.
Just not good enough.

Dreams you hold dear.
Will die out faster than any star.

This world will teach you.
Your blood, sweat and tears.

It's the only way.
You can live to survive.
Just for another day.

In a world that was rigged.
From the day you were born.

This world can be cruel.
That is why it needs you.

To shine the way.
You were always supposed to.

This world will take everything.
So you mustn't give your dreams away.

When they tell you.
To stop looking at the sky.
Do it anyways.

This world ran on dreams.
Long before reality.

When the water comes
and the waves reach the shore
of the brink you’re sitting on,
don’t run,
don’t slip away;
look down instead.
If feeling the water sink in
will make every breath you do take in
more precious than a seapearl,
then jump.
Jump and drown in the sea.
Then live when you leave.

i saw a cat crying
weeping into his bright pink paws.
and, as every human should, I went to him
"Oh Mr. Whiskers, why do you cry?"
he looked at me and said
"Why do the sparrows have wings?
for that makes them harder to catch"
"Why do the rats have noses?
by which they could smell me from afar."
"Why do the snakes live in burrows?
deeper than my paws can scratch."
"Why do the fishes swim so fast?
i can't even get a midnight snack"

I laughed "Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha"
like there was a ticklish feather on my belly.
"Oh Mr. Whiskers, why do you think you have claws?
why do you think you have those fangs?
why do you think you have that fur?
It is your life to hunt
and it is their life to run.
It is your life to leap
and it is their life to fall.
So don't be sad Mr. Whiskers
dry up your pretty paws.
The road ahead is full of scurrying things —
Let your claws do what they're made for.

They tell me tomorrow holds promises,
But I don’t see them.
I don’t believe in miracles,
But I might believe in maybe.

I didn’t want tomorrow,
But I opened my eyes.
They call it trying-
I call it surviving.

Another sunrise I didn’t ask for,
Another breath I didn’t choose,
Same ache,
But different.

Because I’m still here

I want to be the dandelion
growing in between the cracks
in the sidewalk
living in spite
of everything trying to
**** it