Raindrops, falling. Like my tears. This is so like those sad scenes in the movies. Thunder rolls, trees bend and sway. Lightening dances across the ground up ahead. Chaotic and hazed, the air is full of foreign objects whirling around. I shudder as I watch the hail and debris tear through glass windows, shattering, like my heart.
This isn't sadness, it's insanity. My mind is in turmoil. I clench my fists and clench my jaw, hard. I want to reach above the storm with my screams of anger, fear, and hurt. I hold it back, knowing how useless it would be. I give up, and let it go.

Joyfully at home I shall wait,
Never sigh in my single state.
Indeed, better Hands hold my fate;
Joyfully at home.

Life at home is not always "fun",
But brings more joy in the long-run.
Contented to serve a good Son;
Joyfully at Home.

More hands to do the needed work,
Less for mother who does not shirk,
Time learning patience is a perk;
Joyfully at home.

Someday I may have my own place:
A diff'rent man will set the pace.
With my fam'ly running life's race;
Joyfully at home.

This life is like a road we walk,
And as we walk along we talk
Of unseen things and things above,
Of things below like hate and love.
But hate and love are heav'nly, too;
My God hates sin; I do, do you?
Do you show love along the way,
Make sacrifices every day?
For that is love; you'll see, 'tis true,
God loved the world, and me, and you
Enough to give His only Son,
He ransomed every chosen one.
He died on the cross:
Suffered pain, not loss,
To hold us and keep us,
To save us, redeem us.

I’m waiting for you
to show your hand
Will you hold
or will you fold?
Don’t you know
you can’t play the game
with fire red,
and coal black,
both in your hands?
I’m bleeding,
red,
diamond-shaped tears.
I can’t win
For you always hold
the upper hand:
a flushing red
of my beating heart.
It isn’t fair
to leave me holding
onto only blackness.
Don’t you know?
I could beat you
with such a hand as this,
but I found
that I don’t want to

Sometimes I ponder and I wonder why
A woman who's blessed tears up to cry
And then I remember her eyes so gentle
Feeling so deeply she loves not a little

Her life is a beautiful poem
Her heart is intricately woven
Her God-given life a sacrifice of love;
Her soul made of beauty given from above

Remember her tear; needed; 'tis true
It's a privilege if shared with you
Her sorrows are all yours now, as are her joys
Her heart is in your hands, your love it employs

Tiny child, by your parents torn apart,
I wish I could hold you in my arms; not my heart.
Unloved, unprotected, not held by loving hands;
Your demise is cheered on and upheld in this land.

Unloved, unwanted, torn and abused:
Cast aside for selfish pleasure, broken; confused.
They pursued their own lust and chased after their pleasure,
Not facing their sins but removing their treasure.

Screams wrenched the atmosphere.
When the Twins crushed and killed it was called unfair.
Was it "them" or us? Questions everywhere.
All I know is God was there.

A mighty tornado went twisting down;
Homes demolished in many a town.
Death allowed to reap what was sown.
I know He was there, they were not alone.

Our soldiers give their lives in brave fight.
We let our trust take a cowardly flight.
We say goodby yet cry, distraught, in fright.
We forget they are held in the hand of His might.

1. Primal Again

eyes scan
wide space and
I am back

on the savanna
where I hunted
as a cub

my knuckles
in the wet ground
roots poke my

weak peachy flesh
but soon, that human skin
is again calloused paw-pads

I am back,
I am a hunter
again

all fours,
primal, and throw
my head skyward

and I roar
like my father taught me
they know I am coming

they scatter, all of them
as I run, I charge
they are no match

From conception I had issues. I had a bad heart.
There was hope for me, yet when I was born I was dead, with a mangled and crippled body.
But I was revived.
I was given life.
I was given a new heart.
I was ridiculed by many of the people around me. Pitied by some. Encouraged by few. I had days of wishing to die in my crippled state, or even to make my state worse out of spite.
But throughout my life each crippled and disabled limb was made right and new. It was a long, slow process, but it was a journey of beauty.

I smiled at my little girl and imagined what frame would fit best around this pose of hers. And then I stopped smiling. There were tears in her eyelashes. I looked closer and noticed the little pucker just below the left side of her lips that she always wore when she was sad or hurt. I wondered what was wrong. I forgot about the perfect frame and worried about my little daughter. I wondered if I should wake her up and ask what was wrong. Her mother would have known. But her mother wasn't here. I shook my head as I turned to go out the door and then I stopped.