Poems of Love and Faith
I offer you a selection of my work, often written in the darker hours, when the world is calm and silent. Alone, my thoughts turn to my own turmoil and my deep commitment to the love that dwells within me and my need to embrace the good that I believe exists in all sentient beings in this world.
I remember....
This is a poem about the unpredictability of memory and how we subconsciously select memories to store that later may erupt, without warning, to unsettle our faith and serenity - the very heart of our being.
I Remember
What Stayed
the thing about memory
is it doesn’t knock
it kicks the door in
tracks mud across the floor
sits at your table
and drinks what little mercy you’ve got left
and tonight
it brought him with it
A man - my lover
with his degrees hanging on the wall
like medals from a war
I didn’t know I was losing
he knew the language of broken minds
the architecture of trauma
how to walk into a soul
and rearrange the furniture
without asking
and I let him
because when you’re already cracked
you don’t question the hands
that say they know how to hold you
I remember the beginning
how he spoke soft
like a man reading scripture
like truth had finally found my address
I remember believing him
that’s the part that stings
not what he did
but how completely
I believed
he didn’t hit
no
he was more refined than that
he disappeared
right in front of me
went quiet
like a room where something terrible
just happened
and I’d stand there
trying to solve him
like a puzzle missing half its pieces
wondering what I did
what I broke
what version of myself
needed to be smaller
quieter
less alive
I remember shrinking
that’s not poetic
it’s physics
When you remove enough light
things collapse
I remember the children
how their names became echoes
how distance grew teeth
and no one called it what it was
I remember needing him
that’s the ugliest line in the whole story
because need
in the wrong hands
is a leash
and he held it
tight
I remember the silence most of all
not the peaceful kind
not the kind that heals
but the kind that erases you
one unanswered word at a time
until you start to wonder
if you were ever there at all
but here’s the thing
memory didn’t come tonight
to bury me
it came
to show me the outline
of the woman
who walked through all that
and didn’t die
you can’t erase a soul
that’s already been through fire
you can only
reveal it
and yeah
I remember everything
the lies
the waiting
the way love got twisted
into something that looked like obedience
but I also remember this: I’m still here
not quiet,
not small
not waiting
and whatever he took
or tried to take
he didn’t get the last word
because I’m the one
still writing
The Silent Soul
People talk about my soul
Like it’s something they can define.
They judge it, try to wound it
Put lingerie and dresses on it BUT...
The soul remains as God created it.
The soul is older than skin
Older than fear
Older than any name I’ve ever worn.
The soul remembers what I forgot:
I come from God.
You can bruise the body,
You can break the mind,
You can rip the heart
Into fifty screaming pieces.
The soul is present
In the centre of all...
Quiet
Certain
Eternal...
Even when you’re crawling naked
On the cold floor of your own life.
The soul remains unaffected.
This world will mistake your wounds
For who you are.
But the soul knows what it is.
Let it hold you
And sink into its comfort.
You are safe
You are part of God
Nothing real can ever
Be harmed.
All the Churches I've Ever Left
I've left so many churches
they should hang my name
above the exit sign.
Not because I don't believe
but because I can't pretend.
They wanted polished prayer.
I came bleeding.
They wanted theology.
I brought heartache.
They told me to sit down,
so I walked out.
But outside, beneath the power lines
and the graffiti,
God met me.
And I realised -
He was never hiding in temples.
He was waiting
for me
in the wild.