Behind the Veil

Behind every sin,
Behind every failure,
Behind every insult,
Stands a demon,
Waiting to be unleashed,
Waiting to be planted,
Waiting to grow,
Knowing that,
Behind every smile,
Behind every act of kindness,
Behind every blessing,
Stands an angel,
Waiting to be unleashed,
Waiting to be planted,
Waiting to grow,
In front of these presences there’s a veil,
It separates the world, the eternal, the finite.
Only those who can truly see,
See through this veil,
Past the pitiful human existence,
Into the spiritual realm.
And only those who truly know,
Know that we live for nothing,
But that everything is lived in this spiritual world,
That every human act is reflected by a spiritual reaction,
There is no real, purposeful Earth,
Only Earth hidden behind the veil,
That hides from our naive eyes,
To save us the burden.
It is held by those who are stronger and wiser.
But only those who truly live,
Live for that which is important,
Live for the battle of the spirits,
Live for what is right,
Live for what is hidden behind the veil.

It Is Then That We Can Soar

The essence of our entity
The reason why we’re here
Is summed up in one great purpose
A reason defined and clear
We exist for the total surrender
Of all of who we are
Without Him we are nothing
Our lives are cold and dark
In life we get distracted
By all that is to gain
We can’t figure out why it’s not working
We can’t surrender the pain
True healing comes from the intimacy
With our ever-loving Lord
No money, book, or promise
Can ever heal what has been torn
Our total dependence on the Father
Is built into our core
And when we surrender this as the way
It is then that we can soar.

Leaving Behind

I open my eyes,
Just a little to see,
Large men walking out,
I count, one, two, three.
They close the door,
And look outside,
Then they break up,
And go to hide.
An alarm goes off,
The lights are turned on,
As I turn to see,
They break into a run.
Some soldiers come out,
From their sleeping dorm,
And signal the others,
By blasting a horn.
They gather together,
And in a deep bass,
Yell, “Stop where you are!”
And begin to give chase.
But the men do not listen,
They keep running instead,
Cause they know if they stop,
They will soon be dead.
Suddenly one of the men,
Tripped on a brick,
He tried to get up,
But they were coming too quick.
He crashed to the ground,
And cried out in pain,
As the soldiers caught up,
And let the bullets rain.
In seconds he was dead,
Only another name,
Of those mass murdered,
During Hitler’s reign.

But the two other men,
Could never mend,
What had happened that day,
To their dear friend.
So instead they’d ran on,
Now two not three,
Freedom from suffering,
Was all they could see.
They ran as far as they could,
Until their faces were lined,
With tears for the things,
They were leaving behind.
One of those men,
Was my older brother,
The other, the older,
Was my grandfather.
The fallen soldier,
Was also my relation,
I will never forget him;
The second generation.
I will always wonder,
Where they could be,
But my one solemn prayer,
Is that they never, ever,
Forget about me.


This is a poem I wrote for Mrs. Wiebe's novel study that I kept for the heck of it. I promised myself that I would post all my poems, even the old ones that I'm not particularily proud of.

Leaving the Bubble

The darkness is engulfing
I reach forth and my hand hits stone
I turn around and I feel a wall
There is no light coming in
No light coming out
I am in an egg, a shell
A boundary trapping me
I feel like a newborn ready to live
But unable to sacrifice it all to attempt
My soul is wanting, but my mind is unsure
A hole is broken in my shell
Light creeps in,
I stare at the gap
It stares back at me
Wanting me, willing me
I see an open door, an open opportunity
I see potential, passion, revival
Dare I? Should I?
I approach the gap
Lifting my foot, I hesitate
I cannot bring myself to step out
The gap is waiting
Dare I? Should I?
God help me!

Power Struggle

Life is a teeter-totter on which we balance;
Our enemies sit opposing.
Some with words, others with strength,
Both are always controlling.
Neither want to show a weakness;
They are of black and white.
They’re always struggling, always competing,
They promise a never-ending fight.
If an error is made; success by the other;
The weaker falls to defeat.
If one tries kindness and it goes ignored,
Punished, he’s slammed to his feet.
It is only when a sacrifice is shown;
A player stands out on a limb.
Only then can a deal be considered,
And a decision of peace can begin.
The two meet in the middle, their past behind,
Their passion to better is soft.
On a sturdier base, an understanding is made,
And it is then that they can jump off.

Death

Another is gone,
Another is taken.
In a single second
The lives of so many are changed.
To come to the reality
That you’ll never see them again
Is too hard.
To come out of the fantasy world
Of happiness and bliss only to realize
That they are gone forever
Is impossible.
It’s so hard to understand
The true meaning of death.
And even though others are grieving,
I can’t seem to comprehend.
I don’t want to grieve,
I don’t want it to effect,
But I’m caught in a daze.
Unable and unwanting to get it
Because to get it would be to accept it.
Why so young, why so innocent?
Why do the blameless ones perish
While the corrupted ones are released from jail?
It’s frustrating,
It’s confusing,
It’s… life.

The Final Bullet

Darkness. A raindrop falls. A gust pulls me from the ground and whips me into the air. Frightened, I fight it like an upset baby in a womb. It begins spinning me round and round, toying with my senses. Boom! A thunder strike but I cannot tell where it’s from. I know no direction. I am hit on the cheek with a bullet. Twenty, forty, a hundred bullets – each one splashing against my face. The bullets flash around me and, no matter how tight I squeeze my eyes, the light still slides through. Still, I cling for something; some sort of orientation. Some way to get out of this torrent. Another firecracker explodes near my head and knocks me with its iron force. I keep spinning, spinning, spinning. Like a car door slamming, my head is shoved into a wall. Time, time, time again. I brace for the impact as the fingers that control me swing to hammer me against the rocky barricade. It winds up and pitches me towards this fortress. But, instead of rock I feel… a warm fire. As my body attempts to absorb this comfort I am immediately pulled out again. A final crash, a final crack, and I am dropped to the ground. The storm retreats and I am left to lean on this mysterious barrier. My head is dazed from the explosion of silence and I try to come to my senses. As I try to comprehend what has just happened, a tiny piece inside of me begins to yearn for that second of comfort I had felt inside the wall. It hurts though, my head, and I’m cold. Cold leaning against the iron bricks that form this barricade; the barricade that I so desperately want to be back inside of. Franticly, I try to force myself back inside but the wall is steady, the wall is firm, the wall is fortified. My will starts to crack and that minute of comfort takes over my every thought. Why was it ever shown to me if it was to be taken away so soon? In the distance I hear a menacing crack like the bark of an infuriated mongrel. I smell burning. My hunter is returning to collect his helpless prey. My instincts fight against the wall as I try to force myself into its protection. Pain enters as I slam my hand against the solemn fortress, willing for a secret entrance to magically appear. My pounding turns to screaming. I pray. I just need to get in. Maybe someone inside will hear me and have mercy. I just need to get in. My open palm slides down the icy, apathetic wall. I just need to get in. Out of the corner of my eye I see the rain of bullets approaching impossibly fast. With a renewed vigor, I tear at the wall; praying, willing, screaming, cursing. My hands are bleeding. They are coming now. One final kick, one final punch, and I fall to the ground defeated. My body lies crooked on the floor and I sit outside of myself; my own soul deserting my body. Searing they come and unchecked they enter into my defenseless body. A hundred, two hundred, a thousand more. The final raindrop, the final bullet that will do me in, propels towards my open eye. My pupil shrinks as I surrender to this beast and accept my fate. I breathe in with the slug a second from my face. Time stops. And the wall behind me bends. With a clunk the bullet hits the iron bricks that are now encompassing me and clatters to the floor. My broken body collapses and embraces their security. Welcomes their metal encasing. Warm is beckoning, warm I will follow. I gasp and it brings darkness. But… a serene darkness.

A Silent Snap

The silence is a roar
Rebounding inside my head
The pulse of my temples is
A chain gang against my brain
I can feel the rhythm
As much as I try to hide from it
……Drip
……Drop
……Drip
……Drop
The anticipation of the splash is more than the sound itself
It is pounding
Again…
Again…
Again…
My body is tingling but I can ignore it
I open my eyes but the light just scratches at my pupils
Its wicked claws scrape away my eyelids
I shut them quickly to escape the assault
But somehow the claws sneak in
I try to ignore to forget to hide
Curling smaller and smaller I focus on becoming invisible
Screw it I say as I snap on the light and
Force open my eyelids
The talons surge in
And they cry;
I don’t,
They do.
I,
I need to escape.
I,
I need to get away.
Why does my body torment me so?
Dreaming against the midnight clock
I cry out
Trusting deliverance will come; and it does
Again…
Again…
Again…
Please… stop.

One Encouraging Word

All I ask for is for one word.
In a world where all I hear is mocking and insults,
Home is my haven.
Here I seek comfort and encouragement,
And all I find is more of the same.
I seek perfection, so maybe, just maybe,
I can make those around me proud.
All I ever want is a smile of approval,
Yet all I ever receive are glares of disgust.
I long to hear one word,
Just one word
One encouraging word to help me get through the day.
But in a place where insults are laughed at,
And mocking is accepted,
I find and hear no encouraging word,
To let me know that what I’m doing is good,
But it’s so easy to be unsure,
When all I want to hear is,
One
Encouraging
Word.

Living After Midnight

After midnight the world seems to change;
The lights still shine as brightly as they did in the day
Only now they are mysterious.
The snow still crunches the same way under your shoes
Only now it is magical.
The noise that chases the day around like a younger brother
Is hiding behind the moon; playing hide-and-seek until tomorrow
And in its wake is a serenity that is incomparable.
After midnight the world seems more adventurous;
Each step now has a thought out meaning.
It is no longer just a note in a screaming melody;
It has a purpose and a reason.
Each thought is taken into perspective
And compared against the hushed glow of the sky.
The frosty chill that you rejected this morning
Now sits comfortably on your cheeks without fear of unwelcomeness.
After midnight, the roar of the traffic
Has transformed into a hum.
When a car speeds by in the distance you no longer ignore it.
You think, “What is he doing out after midnight?”
Where is he going that he must get there while everyone else is asleep?
The children have long since been tucked in.
And the adults are regretting their past and planning their future.
And the youth are succumbing to the insecurities that can only be heard
In the stillness of a dark room.
And the uncaring continue to sleep;
Totally ignorant of the beauty and mystery that is passing them by every night.
It seems so odd that something so incredible
Passes by each day only to disappear with the sounding of an alarm.
But as you sit there in that moment and accept the cold embrace of the air,
You wonder about the people below you.
And you listen to the flakes beneath you.
And you dwell on the decisions behind you.
And you dream about the paths before you.
And you look to the stars above you.
And you smile, because you have just taken advantage of something,
That everyone else has passed recklessly by.
By tomorrow your day will demand attention again
And you will be forced to follow that path of commonality.
But right now, as you are savouring it, you laugh,
Because you know that you are magically living after midnight.

Sorting Shoe Racks

With a crack of his knuckles and the rolling of his sleeves,
The boy rubs his hands together and gets down on his knees.
He grabs each innocent shoe from the defenseless rack,
And heaves them into a pile behind his slaving back.
With relentless determination they are flung into the air,
‘Till every messy shoe is seized and the closet’s bare.
With an unexpected shift, the focused boy turns around,
And begins to pick each mislaid shoe up off the startled ground.
With tender care he searches through the jumble for a twin,
Then sets the pair softly down and sneaks a tiny grin.
Minutes slowly sneaking by, the boy goes fervently on,
‘Till each wayward shoe is found; a masterpiece is drawn.
He looks down lovingly at the rack, his job here now is done,
Now he’s free to go and play; the battle has been won.
As days go by and people move, they considerately try to keep,
His perfect rack from turning into its initial cluttered heap.
It’s funny how they never caught on that their efforts were in vain,
Cause he’d just chuck them all, and sort them all, and clean them all again.