even though you’re free
you still have to offer yourself

to me

i know you are free as the fleeting snow flake
who knows your destiny
who among us could judge your faith

hand in hand
to you i flow
to me come

how can i be so dear to you
how do you dare to be at my side

even though you are free
you still have to offer yourself


My Mistake

I lacked that tenacity you forecasted for me
last week

I lost my grip

the steadfastness and patience
you prayed for
was lost on me
the way pages are lost flinging
from an open case

tattered, worn/leathered
open case
that files away
unanswered questions, as if they never         pile up

my resolute demeanour that
escapes me now
I boasted so gracefully

with rough tongue i do
lick my wounds
and tears i kept for too long
do well to subdue
the promise of your return

I lie with hope every night
leaving myself alone

that determination you thought you saw in my eyes
was certain, daunting anger
hidden rage barking in the voice of hate

so righteous I became;
the director and projector of my pain

when the truth is a story of the choiceless one must
begin again

such a clean-slate you flung at me
all it caught was this ego-stenched
smell of fury

it drips over my every move
like poison to fool
those blessings you shower upon me now
those borrowed tears I’ve used
trying to wipe away my mistake –
my de-robed mind;

My Mistake

The Longest Night

hey, i dealt you a hand
a hand of wishes
but the staff for the ridge
found you no wood

and the water under the bridge
offended you to boot
and the whole thing fell through.

i dealt a hand
at the bank
of this sinking beach

a hand that stuck
trembling between the breaks
pressing against our feat.

alongside privilege
blind hope feigns abundance,
a deep self betrayal seats itself
and faces you in the audience –
my eyes on you…

deal the hand
that holds me now?
the bridge that held us then?

your distance is a moon
that lit up the longest night

and I won’t deal
and I won’t gamble;
I won’t pretend
to know your plight.

The Longest Night