partial but whole

i. 

and it's like a deflated tire
upon the pavement, yet only i am the
one who seems to notice any of it.
tell me.
the rumble, the herd.
i just want to know.
i am sick - it creeps and haunts
like the loneliness in a parking lot.
still, yet eerie.
these lungs are not rising today -
though i am seeing small things.
the boy is now becoming a man.
steadfast. taller. even more sacrificial.
i weep beside the firs, swimming
through memory and memory of their faces.

learning the art of trying again,
i felt like i had lost all my concrete
burned hands could ever muster.
but now and then the moon
peeks through swallowed clouds and i
think it's the sun come to set again.
mistaken, but hilariously so.

ii.

living.
it runs from the good to the bad.
in my mind, it runs like chevron.
the colors mix, they toss. and it
all comes back together by the
work of His hands. think of it
like kneading bread. the yeast
to make it rise.

living.
this is what it is about.
smeared diamond eyes
peeking at me from underneath rain hoods.
the oxygen feels rich in my mouth.
hardship caught red-handed
amidst a smirk. i'm not one to
show my emotions on my
sleeve, but there are moments
like now.
written like the ebeneezers.

just watch how they dance from
one thing to another, glory arms
they were given. i see him in
the small moments. quietly i sit.
but the compressing pushes
the coals of his character
together - you will know them by
their fruit. so i watch, and so i see.
He who promised He would
complete a good work in you...is faithful.
take a look back.

living.


iii.

laughing into a new day even when my lips are
sealed shut.
i can't remember half of what they said, but i was looking
into their eyes.
i'm still there sometimes.
caught in a glance. stuck in the iris.
i can't help the way they
weave themselves into my heart.
i fall easily,
(but i also get up easily too)
caught up in an uneven
Balance.
i don't mind. i don't mind. my cheeks slip
into a smile because of this love.
blessing in abundance.
bending beneath the weight of His wind
and mercy, oh,
how He loves us.
rough hands in the attic in the middle of the night,
passing cookies like communion.
how He loves us.


/x