Little lost boy, your
Journey has come to an end.
His Mercy, boundless.
#927 On Holding Two Truths
Two truths in one heart—
the hand that wounds, the hand that
holds me still, unsure.
Words I cannot say
to the one who’d judge too fast—
silence, my shelter.
Not excuse, not blame,
only this: love wears a scar
I still call my own.
#926 On The Unmasking
The crowd names me theirs;
beneath the din, one question —
whose life do I lead?
I wore others’ dreams,
their voices louder than mine —
till I came unmasked.
This quiet table —
not the stage I dreamed, and yet
this too is my life.
#925 On Cooking and Mindfulness
Flame beneath the pan,
the knife falls without hurry —
the mind settles too.
Oil hums, sardines sear,
each stir a returning home —
no elsewhere remains.
The lunchbox is packed,
a small life tended with care —
this too is enough.
#923 On Moral Reflection
Words meant to wound fly
back to the one they named — God
holds the mirror still.
To name another’s
fault is easy; harder still
to live what we preach.
The page holds the self
honest where the tongue would flee —
write, and then repent.
#922 On Our Nearness
In quietness, we catch
One another’s eye, and know:
Our nearness is nigh.
#919 On Vanity’s Reign
Rage burns, unrestrained —
years of work upon my soul,
yet pride unmade me.
I knew the better
path, and chose the lesser one:
ego, not wisdom.
Still waters beneath —
what shame, that I let the flood
speak before my soul.
#917 On The Line
Vessel cracks at last —
what floods out is not weakness
but the self, reclaimed.
I will bear no more
than dignity permits me.
The line has been drawn.
Beyond their reach now,
I walk the quiet distance
that was always mine.
#916 On Longing for Her
Each dawn without her
stretches like an unread page —
the words wait for her.
Distance holds the key
to what these weeks have borrowed —
I go to reclaim.
Soon the city lights
will matter less than her eyes —
distance folds to touch.
#912 On The Road Chosen
The road I chose — where
did it quietly become
someone else’s life?