I look to the future – near and distant
And I clearly see
Love in action, sacrifice
Less captivity
I close my eyes, yet look ahead
And will not be dismayed
For though the suffering is so much
Our passion cannot fade
Poems
The Dancer – a poem for a stripper
She shakes the thought of her father
As if a literal move of her head
Would drain the haunting memories
Of how he left her nearly dead
Perversion, greed and muscle fatigue
Trembling knees and thighs
Wondering what kind of man will pay
For a dancer with tears in her eyes
Compelled – a poem about the draw to fight against sex trafficking
I’m in this fight
I won’t do nothing
But shine a light
Of hope & peace
My hands at work
I won’t be idle
Lest evil lurk
Upon my watch
It shall sustain
Until its demand
The root of pain
Have all but ceased
I must remain
Extol the mandate
Abolish shame
And slavery
Strength – a poem for Carly
She dug further down in the deep of her heart
And the further she went, the more pain would impart
Past the rejection, past all the lies
For their protection, she casts off disguise
She sees it all
But is blind to her own strength
She sees it all…but her strength
Upholding them
Supporting them
With the strength
She has from above
In the very last days he spent on this earth
She would fight for the rights of the two she gave birth
Walking the tightrope, shaking with fear
Helping them say all he needed to hear
She sees it all
But is blind to her own strength
She sees it all… but her strength
Upholding them
Supporting them
With the strength
She has from above
The strength she has from above
From above
She fights with the strength
From above
With the strength from above
Death Be Not Proud – a poem about Nathan’s Win
Death be not proud
That you’ve gained one more soul
It was not a win for you
Swallowing whole
His breath and energy
Cancer and pain
You may count it as yours
But this loss is yet gain
Friends and dear family
Daughter and son
Draw near to heaven
Where life’s now begun
His grace is a blanket
His comfort a salve
His presence with Nathan
Is here with you now
Death be not proud
For this world is not home
For this earth which we roam
Will assault heart and bone
Rather, home is our city
In heaven and light
So I raise my proud fist
For one hell of a fight
Freedom’s Door – a poem on prayer for freedom
This is a poem I wrote for an article for Abolition Now, about the power of prayer for freedom. They decided to wait on the article part and only published the poem for now…
Freedom’s Door
I hear your voice call out to Me
Most times it is My symphony
Most times it is all that I need
To move, to act, to pour.
Believe, I fashioned you this way
Let’s talk and laugh throughout the day
I’ve placed them in your path for you
To move, to act, to pour.
So move again, and you will see
My Spirit in community
Each act of faith, a rugged key
To open freedom’s door.
Dash the mountain with My Word
With authority assured, and
Speak to me, My Kingdom’s shine,
You open freedom’s door.
(photo credit: Kathy Lebron)
Fruit, a poem on God’s Creation Around, and Within Us
I am not from here.
I was bought to become
A citizen of a new Kingdom
That defies space, and laughs at time
Makes rain and soil, twists the vine
It takes that which was never so
And speaketh it to be, to grow
To burrow roots and draw from silt
And push aside condemning guilt
Its nutrients of truth and grace
Are coursing through my spider veins
Until at last in seasons’ time
A glimpse of pink, a bloom, a sign
And all the waiting, and irresolute
Will pale behind colors of life-bearing fruit
Transformation Northwest – Conference with Father’s House Church, at 1st Baptist Church SW Portland, featuring guest Speaker, Pastor at Hope Centre in Tauranga New Zealand, Kristen Williams. Also featuring breakout session speaker, Joshua Shaw, on speaking out with boldness to those in public, words of knowledge, and healing those with pain or afflictions, by the power of the Spirit.
The Surrender to Spring – poem on anxiety, winter, spring, hope
The Surrender to Spring
The chill demanded tightened fists, a tightened scarf around my cheeks. Its frost, like fear, deceit cashmere in shadows.
It seems as though anxiety makes home a cold society…and lies awake in shivering and shallow.
Yet as the morning breaks and with it sunlight gently takes away the tense, it seems this warmth is really, grace.
Grace with which to operate, to view, to love, invigorate. Grace with which to saturate this day.
I watch intently crystal hairs that weaken, melt and drip and bare, the blades beneath their outerwear so blithe.
They are still, as they await the transformation. They unveil the season coming, and a brighter shade of life.
Chelan 