Still The Air I Breathe

I feel this world is pushing me,

pressing me to move on,

move on, just move on.

I need to stop and breathe.

They say they’ve made a better way,

newer means to move us all along,

moving strong, and moving on.

We need to stop and breathe.

You’re still the air I breathe,

be still, my soul, and see.

There is no other air to breathe,

Holy Spirit dwell in me.

I see the world is losing you,

we’re losing you, we’re lost,

step back, we’re losing you.

Clear! We need to breathe.

Our fear is closing every door,

does anyone believe,

faith, can anyone believe?

Only trust in God, and breathe.

You’re still the air I breathe,

be still, my soul, and see.

There is no other air to breathe,

Holy Spirit dwell in me.

~FS

Boundless

We are watchmen of an epoch,

keepers of the moment. 

This time is entrusted unto us. 

While yesterday sleeps,

tomorrow is yet to awaken. 

For now, the sun shines on you. 

Out of an endless deep…

we emerge, briefly:

and then are engulfed again. 

But sleeping eyes will watch and see,

for you are not about today, alone—

We are about, forever. 

~FS

Wildflowers

Death is an open wound—

but one where wildflowers bloom.

Friendship wills its memories—

our summer’s laughter on the breeze.

And our footfalls falling—

upon the earth.

Faint echoes fading—

of our mirth?

No, there are wildflowers in her hair—

and they’re pretty and so lovely.

Yes, there’s beauty everywhere—

she walked and where she bloomed.

~FS

Exiled

Mad, beautiful world:

you make me scream,

weep, then laugh. 

And repeat; repeat…

My childhood,

before I knew this world,

was like a deep dream:

so sweet and untroubled.

This life is a beautiful face:

riddled with hidden cancers. 

It is wine mingled with vinegar. 

We are embraced here in the arms of love:

therein we wither and we die. 

Every moment is suffused with magnificence:

and destined for decay. 

Beauty soothes the torment:

as death devours the joy.

Hope. Hope. We must end:

with hope!

Yes, there is a savior:

silent and hidden from view. 

Dimly, we see that glimmer of hope:

which mocks our infirmities. 

But for now we are left here:

wandering this garden of terrors. 

Leave me take me leave me: 

one more day on this cruel beauty. 

Today or not today:

take me or leave me.

Exiled in the sweet smelling thorns.

~FS

Freedom Psalm

Lord, have mercy upon your servant,

for my freedom has become an offense to others,

and my breath, like a foul-stench;

though I have done nothing wrong,

and my lips have uttered truth.

I would walk under the shelter of your wing,

yours alone, Oh Lord!

But they would have me hide,

shut-up inside the citadel of their fears;

free me from cowering eyes, intent on lies.

Protect me from their accusing tongues,

shield me from their self-righteous accusations,

for I live for you alone, Oh Lord!

In you, I place my hope,

and I will not hide from the power of your Love.

Though others may lose heart, and faint in the midst of life,

I will not fear this life, for I put my trust in You.

Give me courage and wisdom to continue,

keep my path straight and guide my feet,

Grant your servant freedom in life and in death, my God.

~FS

Rebirth

For those of us who love the well-worn paths,

Who congregate under the familiar light.

Let’s make haste into a starless night~

Take flight! Fear not!

We’ll tread across the wild places,

Thrilling our soles with new sensations,

We’ll find our souls within us;

As we blaze the new-found trails.

Discoveries array before us;

For we who do cross the veil.

~FS

In A Loving State

I’m not certain how it is that you became my mother and my father. (I’ve had those already.)

Or when it was you adopted me. (I didn’t ask you to.)

Or why you took me under your dark wing.

Should I thank you for your protection?

What do you get from this?

Your wide embrace, has gathered us to you like little chicks;

and you hold us closely.

So tightly.

So thank you,

but your concern for me is killing me.

I’d rather not. 

I am admonished.

You have chastised my wanton freedoms~

To wander, to breathe,

to cherish my loves,

as one in love with life,

and with my fellow chicks!

But you’ve set my brothers against me.

What a cruel mother hen you are,

in your love for us. 

But are we your children, or your pets?

How do you see us?

Truly?

“Stay! Wear this muzzle! Don’t go there, bad dogs!

I’m doing this for your safety, trust me.

Do this for your safety!

I love you.”

Well,

thank you, oh so much.

But please, release me from your smothering love.

Exercise your tender mercies,

on some other poor creatures.

Or better, towards yourself alone.

And let me live now, freely, until I die. 

~FS

A Guy Named Spillane (St Patrick’s Day Limerick)

This guy named Spillane is uncouth,

though he claims to be telling the truth,

he writes lots of words

haven’t you heard

few of which offer up sooth.

Then there’s this other guy also Spillane,

who’s generally always to blame,

he thinks he’s so funny

but he can be a dummy

that’s what his wife sometimes claims.

Lastly, a guy named Spillane lives in town,

you’ve probably seen him around,

he could be a sage

but he’s prob’ly a knave

and most certainly simply a clown.

~FS

Every Moment A Gift

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, thank you.

For this moment~

which I breathe in deeply,

so gratefully!

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, thank you.

For now~

which is filled with Your light,

and Your warmth!

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, thank you.

For this moment~

the wind blowing through the trees,

and the candle burning!

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, thank you.

For these gifts~

a sandwich to eat,

and water to drink!

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, thank you.

For this life~

every moment,

a gift!

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, thank you.

Come dwell with me,

Holy Spirit. 

Abide in me. 

I am but an empty husk, without your fruit.

~FS

Prayer

Pray, until you are one who prays~

Pray like a flame that will not go out;

burn brightly in unfavorable circumstances.

Pray, until you have become the prayer.

And…

Pray, when prayer is no longer what you do~

Pray when pleasure no longer draws you to it;

when pain will not distract you.

Pray, as prayer is what you are.

~FS