remote control

turn it off:
the sound and the fury
of upraised fists,
words spoken in hurry
without a thought for how they cut,
or tear and bruise and even maim.
change the channel
to a gentle response,
of kindness repaid for insult given.
turn it off:
the static of rage
that glows in the heart
when passion ignites;
bingeing on fear
and vomiting hate.
turn it off,
before it’s too late.



Heavy laden. I am weary.
Mind is dull and eyes are bleary.
Promises you made seem lost.
Among the violent waves I’m tossed.
Hint of a pledge rings in my ears
But I find it hard to hear
Your voice among my angry storm.
But you still bid me come.
Promise, pledge, oath and vow.
I think I hear your whisper now,
Just barely over all my rage.
I want to free you from this cage,
Of self pursuit and dreams most wild.
I’ll give you better things my child.
Things you would not dare to dream.
And though, impossible it seems,
I have plans, not to harm,
But prosper you. If in my arms
You’ll find your comfort and your way
I’ll bring you to a brighter day
His whisper not his shout is heard
And even though my mind’s still blurred
I see the burning of the dawn
And know he’ll lead me home.

originally written on 8/24/11


God who is in heaven.
Bathe my smokey heart.
Anger once was justified, but it has played its part.
What first was cleansing fire
Has left me brittle bones.
The flames have burned straight through me, searing all my soul.
Rain your mercy down now.
Subdue the smoldering rage.
Snuff out these embers raising smoke. Unlock this seething cage.