In You, I am alive —
In You, I can try; thrive —
In You, I can create,
In You, I know my fate —
In You, I can fail.
In You, I can see all,
Now, truly.

I stand.







In the middle of my lounge room.
Not wanting to sit,
In case I crease
My cream linen suit
I just so tirelessly
Ironed.

A healthy reframe:
to be jealous
is acknowledging
longing within,
when we detach
from that ache,
we become bored, disengaged,
angry and spew out apathy.

I think you still look at me,
like you did when I was a kid —
Forever seeing me
as my younger, wilder (freer) self,

When you look at me, still,
All my childish ways were for nothing,
But, I see them as my "red pill"
transforming me into something —

I think you also still see me
lying in that coma.
Your dreams dashed for the ideal daughter's glee
You wished to live out your long-lost desires...

So you dressed me, did my hair
made me up like a daisy doll
lying there without sound to share,
I couldn't protest, I wore that knoll.

But, now —
Here I am,
With a voice less shallow
Yelling:  "I am not that kid anymore!"

So, how do you like that pill —
to swallow?

Why do I walk?
For exercise;
For an influx of oxygen?
No.
For poetry’s sake —

Each step I take
Unlocks thoughts from the deep,
And I reach in to take a peep.
What peers back
Is not a gasp,
Not a rasp rattling:
“Get back to walking!”
But a friend, 
Who hears my thoughts
And welcomes them —

Who says: once more,
“Yes! Here we go again”
And by the time I stop
At my destination,
I've taken those steps,
And released my vocation
With unequivocal elation —

I was late
for the riot of kookaburras
this morning,
Which exacerbated
the pain in my big toe
as I ran, forming
a bruise on my left heel
in compensation. The ripple effect; scoring!

Even though I hold a bouquet of regret,
I shall not fret --
        Because You will ensure
        I never fall.

I am listening to Billie
drop her new album,
Curious to hear, indie,
pop or chill, vulnerable?
Or will it be just another
wannabe?
And as I ponder, my focus
wanders to the bird calls
outside my window,
they are spectacular,
unique and peppery,
shrill and squawky
and a soft melody.
How can humans compare?!

What does Snow White see,
When she looks in the mirror?
Does she like what she sees, freely?
Or does she, like me, look
With dismay, and say, 
"Oh, my skin is not as white,
As yesterday, I won't go out and play
Today, I will stay in and away,
Because people will say 'she's not so fair'."
It's not fair that weight of expectation,
and the wait for ultimate perfection.

I walked through a pond of croaking frogs, loud and strong and forever a gallant song until I approached --
Whence they ceased their tune.
I wrapped the silence around me like the silver lining of Joseph's dream coat.
And rode the waves of fog around me, strong, confident and unimpeachable.
Shadows loomed, daring me in the face of darkness to stay strong.
I picked up the pace, and I ran my race home yelling --

yippeeeeeeeee!

Sitting in the Aged Care Pastoral Care room,
Drinking a warm milky tea and eating a Monte Carlo.
There are beeps outside from staff going in and out of ‘secure’ rooms,
The hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen nearby,
Gentle clanging of knives and forks being sorted,
Staff chatter going in and out of Residents’ rooms.
Life in an Aged Care Center.
Taking in this precious moment; I am here,
I'll never have this moment again,
A moment I've been working towards for years through study and practicum.
I am a spiritual carer!
Walking alongside the life-full residents;
Their crinkly, sagging skin, lines that tell a thousand stories
Of love, loss, despair, and hope for repair
oscillating between the past lives and future selves
Some are only just here for the minute.
So much they can teach me,
And like my younger self eager to learn,
I listen hopefully.

Fear is the only thing that will keep you from the truth,
So is self-consciousness the only thing we should fear?!
Just relax…

Just stop, trying,
Just, stop, trying. No more,
Let it pass, stop denying.
Wipe the tears, drying, lift your eyes,
No more nigh in, or fighting or sighing,
But more yes.
And more success!
And more belief through accepting divine relief.

When you bounced across my path
The other day, you caught me
By surprise.
Seeing you up so close
Made me laugh with joy,
Reminding me to be
Present with open eyes.
Your majestic body, mastercraft!
One kick, deathly.
Present moment, realise!

Token:
“Love your enemies!”
Until the Spirit has awoken,
Life without the invisible strings, keeping us latched to disasters
But peace is spoken.

Critics collude together in cliques to keep themselves safe from reality.
Truth is subjective, they say, diluting its potency and dilating its delusions.
But grounded, truth becomes a platform on which to
kick critics to the curb,
Taste the dirt of their terse tunes.

When I look around the church,
The Kingdom is finally here
On Earth; all people of colour, nationalities,
Ages, shapes and sizes;
gender, sexuality and (re)marriage.…
in their tribes…{alone and together},
Worshipping; glory!
This begs the question: why are we required to focus on the priest?

When I was younger,
I kissed a lot —

I mean many, many lips...

I kissed in dares,
Men with hair
and without.

I kissed in hiding places behind trees,
In dark movie theatres,
In sunshine and under deep blue water...

Oh, the places my lips have been.
Breathless pants,
mouthing moans at just a glance...

Oh yeah, I've been there!

And what about the inappropriate kisses?! Trauma kisses from people you trusted; my History teacher, when he took me up to the Monument one day after school,
we sat there in his car, stroking my hand, he leaned in and took it way too far...
Eventually, I moved away and we "lost touch"
But I still think about it...and moving home, I often wonder if I will ever see him walking somewhere near?

But as I've matured,
and become more discriminating...discerning --
I've run out of kissing stories to tell.

They now feel like the lips of a princesses waiting in the tower
Waiting for the kiss from her prince --

I long for a kiss --
that takes my breath away...

Knowledge only takes you so far;
Authenticity reveals your complexity,
Humility accepts your vulnerability,
Surrendering accepts the hand of the one
that is all things: knowledgeable, authentic, humble,
and submitted to the ultimate power in the universe.

Wander with us; there’s no right or wrong, it just is: justice.
You just are. You’re not good or bad but: daughter.
Keep walking with me, along the twists and turns of life,
We are breaking off the hurt and pain; till there is laughter.
Everything is significant; just keep walking.
Spirit break my walls down; Your blood heals every disease.
Stay with us in the present, then,
Even the difficulties will become pleasant and you will walk with ease.
There’ll be times we’ll stop: rest and we’ll chat.
We’ll tell you why those things happened,
We’ll tell you which way to turn next,
Then there’ll be no more struggle; just continuing to heal and mend.

Poems pepper every waking wonder,
all peccadillos are fodder,
for the poetry potting mix.
Perfectionism once the precipice,
although still my poking stick,
creativity is my ignition, really revs my engine,
and, I hope will burn brighter.
Poems take me away, far, far away,
to a world so wonderful,
I wake up thinking of no other.

In the silence,
A scream came forth from nowhere.
Not prompted by anything or anyone.
It startled me, at first,
As the tremors reverberated in my body, still.
I pondered its origins;
A groan of all the screams I've suppressed
Leaked out:
Layered losses claiming their voices.
With their release, came space,
And grace…and strength and power.
I'll harness, to use in this hour.

As I poured my second steamy, frothy coffee,
Pyjamas wrapped, Uggs tapped as I waddled back.
Bed called, not its usual mantra: hide, but confide,
Laid down respectfully, trusting, heeding not to thoughts of lack,
But dreamingly inventing new worlds, opening my heart beyond now, but being very much present.

verse after verse I rehearse
my inner world,
growing courage to discourage,
the lies that try to strangle
my dreams
of becoming the girl
You believed in,
to breathe in --

Last intensive, last counselling lecture, last semester, last chaplaincy subject…
Last—
This won’t last, soon it will be in the past, right now I can’t wait for it to fly fast,
But I’m sure, sometime, in the not to near future,
I will look back with forlorn, how could it go so fast?
The future looms,
I need to zoom out, hold the prospects lightly, noticing how they feel…
I feel!
Exciting, overwhelming, the usual anxiety-producing sensations.
Could there be another way to feel about the future?
Could there be faith in the unfathomable, not too distant future?
Could the unknown become my friend, inviting me to see new possibilities?
Welcoming risks for pure bliss?
From this vantage point, it has flown,
But I know there have been times when it just felt slow, and my spirit groaned.
So, can I sit here, in the now, embrace the future full of confidence?
I am here now!
Four years ago the challenge loomed,
Felt like carrying bricks up Mount Everest: impossible.
But here I am. I am here.
Celebrate, clap and cheer
the impossibility is thus so near.
It whispers: come closer, lean in, don’t be afraid, peer…

Power of Remembering

A brisk pace

Walking to work,
I was struck, with the memory:
the time when I could not walk...
After a stroke, during brain surgery, and a 40-day coma…
My step indeed picked up to a brisk pace,
and a smile came upon my face.


Thankful.

Restraining

There's something
paradoxical
about restraining,
saying no,
when everything in you
wants to say yes,
everything in you wants
to go get,
everything in you wants
to consume
And then you pause and
wait
And it passes.
Is that the power of restraint?

Can I go one day without doubting?!
One day without posting?
One day without coffee?
One day...
BUT
I will not go one day without seeking,
One day without praising,
One day without
YOU

I pick up
My tambourine again
Drumming, I usurp
The inky black depression while reminiscing.
Let praise erupt and interrupt
The drone of zombie life.

Wild & Desperate

Most of life is spent curled;
Caught in the wild and desperate places,
Straddling between two worlds;
Satisfied and striving, for more space,
The here-and-now and the not-yet-inspired.
Being enough and constantly unlaced.

Return to connection

Turn again to your mother’s *****
And risk vulnerability;
Courageous kindness in a world of disconnection.

Ablaze

Burn all my impurities;
May they sing:
“This girl is on fire!”

Weary but not wasted

Drawing on power from He who rides upon the clouds,
To face the battles this day that mount. 
Reignite in me an unquenchable fire. 
That stirs my spirit from the One that inspires.

Thank YOU, that I am not perfect!

I take off this heavy yoke,
This burden that cripples my spirit and robs my joy.
What is it like to live a different life?
To believe something different from what I've spoke. 

To try new things and become more of YOUR joy.
Thank YOU that I'm not perfect!

Thank YOU that I can make mistakes,
And can try again.
There are many possibilities ahead!
I can zoom ahead and I can apply the breaks,
I can stumble and re-wire my brain.

Thank YOU that I'm not perfect! 
So here's to another attempt,
So here's to continuing on the journey...
No matter what…willingly and NOT circumspect!

True Life

I was dead, even when alive.
I lived, but lived for others,
Surrendering my soul,
I must have existed, but did I truly survive?

Denial? Busyness? Constant comparisons?
Are all good contenders,
(Do-goodness and perfection add)
In the throes of destruction.
But now I heal, trusting in God there are no human barriers.

However, this truth, 
The hustle continues,
Life should be sweet?!
But instead, we struggle by struth!

Mindfulness may be the key,
Cocktails of alcohol and drugs?
Or constant distractions and selfies?
But Jesus trumps all, seek him, you'll see!

He is the life and resurrection,
He is our true peace,
Our hope and life,
And should always be our concentration.

Welcoming Mourning

It is quiet because it is morn.
I don't like to look in the mirror
Because of what I see:
I look into death’s eyes
And see my reflection.
I see the death of hopes and dreams
And loved ones, I mourn,
Constantly.

Hooray

I'll meet You here today
so that our hearts will get to play.
and our smiles will go back from yesterday,
Oh, yesterday.
Our souls will stretch out far and lay
peacefully quiet in Your welcoming hay.
I'll stay forever, and I'll pray
for others to join us every day.
It'll be my pleasure, I'll say; hooray!

Wild Animal Within

I want to befriend
The wild animal within
To sit with and know,
To encourage and mend.

To tame its twitches,
To friend its foes.
To flame its courage
And pull up its britches.

To walk the way
Of the narrow path,
To head North even with Rath
And help it trust You and all You say.

Exquisite Love

Beloved...

Here I am...
... I am listening.

See me...
Oh free me from my earthly tethers.

Trust me...
Lift me  to ride the clouds with You,
Above the storms.

Mystery

Observation is key,
To unlock the mystery.

...

It is soundless.
Is this how it was
Before You spoke?

Can grace be birthed?

I live in the brokenness,
I live in the mystery.
I live in imperfection,
I am human: that’s me.

So, why did I continue to wear
The yoke of slavery?
Continue again and again to tear,
Myself down when You tried to love me?

Only with humility,
Can I accept Your love,
Only with Your sovereignty,
Can grace be birthed; free your dove!

Time tells tales: of where we find our fortune,
Seven years of recovering, seven years of dependence, seven years of healing, seven years of growing freedom.
After seven times seven minus seven days on life support,
lying in a coma, wondering when I would wake up, if ever.
These years were spent learning: from unknowing, awkward, and uncertain to knowing, revelation, and authenticity.
I saw my underbelly, I wrestled with my inner foes,
I reconciled with my complexity,
And was held by the One who truly knows,
The future, the road that’s still ahead, and
The enlargement, the promises fulfilled.
The love and acceptance, the rejoicing.
I step out into the unknown more bolder now,
Holding the hand of the One who is more known.
Time is ahead of me, I don’t need to speed it up, but rather I desperately want to slow it down: and
Savour the moments, minutes, and the memories,
Of life here: now that’s a fortunate tale!

Cold isolation,
Hibernation, and intense fascination,
With self. I needed to do this to reclaim the lost, broken-hearted, and wounded parts of me,
Lonely seasons bring out despair: depression, desperation.

But then things crack and light streams in,
Warmth and life overpowers darkness, enveloping,
With love, grace, a heavenly face that wipes away every tear and love wounds that trace
The maker of our seasons, the one who writes new story endings.

Liberation is a fire that burns deep within, new rumblings, in the heat of new adventures,
New maturity emerges, new insights replace old that are purged,
There is freedom here, new dreams spark, courage is abounding in my inner nature,
New possibilities are seen, tasted, and felt,
Small steps evolve into giant leaps into the future.

To stabilise all this growth, you have to take stock,
Step out of the spotlight, and tend to the flock.
It’s time to reflect, marvel, and enjoy, all the moments in life: good and bad,
And embrace the confidence of standing on firm rock.

From this place, I step into my reward,
Rejoicing that all things are made new, on his accord,
New wisdom is found: pockets with pearls, lavish plunder, so different from the darkness that once hung,
But now I fight my battles with a double-edged sword.

Broken Dreams

I tried to be clever,
Carrying too much in my hands.
Inevitably, the glass did sever,
Shattering on the floor, lands.

Can I draw parallels,
With my broken dreams?
God’s too, when He breathed life into dust particles
But we, His people, became broken vessels
Living off dry, earthly streams.

In this season, God’s promises
Seem improbable.
Broken vessels are the masses,
Spirit-God, do the impossible…

Mend my distorted dreams today;
Bringing peace where there seems no stay.

Mustard Seed

Mud cakes, sand castles, dress ups and... Make-believe;
Child-like curiosity, awe, wonder and...
Other-world conceive.
Silence, in a busy grownup world, gives opportunity for playfulness you can retrieve,
Embrace these moments, seek them out, faith like a mustard seed, oak trees sprout.

Sacrifice with shouts of joy

There's not
Really
much
that I need.
Sure,
There's
PLENTY
I want
BUT
Need…
I need love.
.
.
.
I want love.
But isn't love
The very act of sacrifice?