An Advocate is He

i had the first and the fifth part of this written on a piece of paper and figured i would fill in the rest.

His steps have tread the crooked path,

Surpassing a passive notion that lines cannot suffice.

So listen now for the tremulous vibrations
For he walks with purpose along the dusty road.

Approaching with the migrating flocks,

Scores of birds understood within his walk.




As miles unknown withstand beneath his soles,

Travesties tirelessly extinguish by his foot and deed. 

So listen gently to what he mouths,

For inaudible prods shall save your life.

He who has seen your calloused road,

Crossed with intent, He now sees you.





Match his gaze, receive the words
That float with the countless wings.

Rise up from the curb, find your own feet
Whose strength permeate your being.

He passes now with purpose more.
As you walk once more, towards the other way.

Bought

Blood twice bought ne'er seeps

For in that purchase lies this truth:

That first it bought from whence he fell,

And thus bought back when love was yours.

For once was once, but not for all,

Ere twice occurred to thwart the fall

And now you live as if for two

Apart from yourself, within the One

Now with that purchase a deal was set.

Your blood was bought and kept for keeps.

Eternity reigns within this truth,

So let it live as He let you.

also from a few years ago. 

Lateral Glances

Standing still remains in question

For if in doubt I'll learn my lesson

Twice fooled and yet in vain

Stopped short; my fabled bane

Twists, contorts, ever so crude,

I seek the same skewed solitude

To once again retain my sorrow

And let linger what won't follow.

this is from 2008, just transferring it over from an old myspace blog so it's not lost forever. 

A Mongrel of Man and Malus

this just kind of came out of nowhere. i was going to write something summarized the rabbit dream in a few lines, but this happened instead. fyi, 'malus' is a genus of trees, most notable for the crabapple tree, as well as serving as a ballin' homophone. there's your fun fact for the day. i will redo this one someday.

Little one, 

A question to ask:

Do you not know,

Binding weeds have foiled maturation?

          Teeth have bitten

          A heart unwritten.

          As an apple once bit,

          Learns twice to quit.

Little one,

It is no small task:

Do you not know,

Roots erred demand redemption?

          Ashes spat from tongue and cheek,

          Rewrite the man, however meek.

          His deviant deeds undone,

          Stitched, strangled and wrung.

Little one,
No longer ask,
For you now know,
As burgeoned limbs discover just fruition.

Harbinger of Healing

this is expounded on from a dream I had in early December, a combination of Watership Down and From Fear to Love, both books I had recently read. 

My steps took me to the open shop door. The yard, basking in the summer warmth, was empty save for myself It held a curiously absent feeling, as if I had entered my own mind as a stranger unfamiliar with familiar surroundings. I stopped at the threshold of the open door, for there sat a small white rabbit with his ears flat against his body, crippled in a trembling fear.

I approached the rabbit with a tender caution. I understood it represented a part of my own subconscious. This rabbit, frightened and lost, was a manifestation of childhood fears in guileless nature. Without speaking a word, I gently lifted the rabbit into my arms and held him against my chest. He had been wronged somehow and vindication was necessary, as much for me as for him.

Whatever discord had befallen him it had been most unnatural; this brand of fear in a rabbit his size and age begs vengeance on him who is responsible. That deed, however, was not for my doing. The rabbit, wide-eyed in his fear and inured by the danger of the world around him, needed assurance that he could exist in his own fur; an assurance that could only come from discerning an identity above whatever trauma he endured.

In his shaking fear, I attempted to find a location where he would feel safety, a place where he could begin to talk about what had happened to him. From corral to coop, barn to bin I walked, my feet crunching against the gravel, the sound of which echoed against the seemingly airless surroundings. With each stop, he only shook his head.

"Not the place," he seemed to scream with his eyes, "This is not the place."

My feet continued on, still cradling the rabbit in my arms. He nestled his nose in the nook of my elbow, nervously checking his surroundings. All I could think to do was to speak a steady stream of affirmations into his folded ears: "You are safe. I have you. You are safe. I will keep you safe."

With several more locations I, at last, understood. I looked into his vacant eyes, my own filled with compassion and searing empathy. We were finally on one accord and his taciturn voice seemed to erupt as revelation flooded over us.

"We have to go back. Back to where it all began."