Letting Go: Releasing Our Art Into The World

Letting Go

Go poem,
Words, go
Whether it be early or late
Or timed with perfection
You were born in a heart of passion
Raised up to be released
Born of the seed of God gift
Never formed for staying put.

Go art,
Poems, go
Go make your home in a heart
That weeps for encouragement
Cries for beauty, is starved for it
Longs for healing in a wounded place
Land and light and harbor in
The refuge of another’s sight.

Go lines
Art, go
Go and make your way through dark and lonely
Streets and hopeless hearts
Spark a flame, fuel it, fan it
Heat the cold and frozen places
Be a word that thaws
The soul, the frigid place within another’s heart.

be what you were called to be.
and be it away from me.

Fly on the wings of dove, in peace
And great horned owl, so wise
Hitch a ride on strong brown pelican
Strap yourself to wings of  great blue heron.

Go in peace
to the place
Were meant
To call your new


one word 250


Joining friend Jennifer Lee today

GO Untitled

Entanglement – Noticing Jealousy

wpid-IMG_20130830_200328.jpgToday is Day 18

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Empty beach shadow profileEntanglement

It comes in waves. But mostly it remains at sea.
Mirrors and mimics the tides.
Mercifully stays off shore for long and healthy seasons.
Replacing white-capped waves with tranquil seas.
And then the storms come
Churning up the waters,  turbulence sucks and spits and spins
Water spouts pop up in the darkest of spaces
Blow backwash in the pristine open air
Monstrous waves drown out joy
Bury hope beneath the weight of the abyss
And the wailing begins, again
Doubt is dumped like heavy silt
From the bottom, ocean’s floor
Wind and waves roar
Splash mockingly at me
Pieces of the soul, taken by the raging sea
Deposits broken bounty on the rock
Sun burned now they shatter
Cracked and brittle, bleached out
Under the blazing sun’s
Hallowed blinding rays
Unrelenting heat
Of the belly, from the pit
Killing off
All that  once was good
Replacing it with death


It comes in waves
And when it does it drowns
Out perspective
Washes away
The gifts
Dilutes the passion and the art
Water logs the spirit
Dampens the soul
Like wrinkled flesh
The blessings
Now seem water logged
And repetitions of the sinful same
Bury treasures
The sea soaked soul
Her watery grave

It comes in waves.
A gentle ebb, a gentle flow.
She scurries shorebird like
Running from the watery fingers of the waves
Seeks shelter from entanglement in
Nets of grasses
Jelly fish, the stinging nettles
Out to harm and weigh her down.


And so it will be
Like the sea
Forever prsent, as the tides
An ebb
A flow
An in
An out
She seeks the shelter more, not less
A place of safety in the arms
Of  Creator of The Sea
And claims her prize
She runs from pride
In calm sweet waters
And dives deep boldly into
Pools of  calm sweet grace
A ring of mercy safely round her neck
The  Saver of Her Soul
Floating now, in peace, atop
Wave on wave of His amazing grace.

Day one shadow

Ready Set Go Notice


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Lost In A Sea Of Other

Today is Day 11 

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Lost In A Sea Of Other

You should not care to hear the heart of one who lost
Their way in a sea of other
Ways and words and genres
This is not about war or poverty or political crises
But a crisis of confidence

Does everyone who breathes not know this
It’s surely not a minor cord in a major symphonic performance
Of an artist’s life

So if you would choose to bow out now
Not read the lines of poetic gazing into the petri dish
Of the writer’s soul

I for one would not blame you
For those of you who are left
Passion should burn
And if it leaves
Or if it fades
Oh the grieving should then begin

And so I am lost in a sea of other
Wise enough am I, I shall find my way out

But simply
Poetry or whatever you named your passion
That day you uncovered it

Wants a little piece of me
And I
Willing to not go in with just my
Toes in the shallow end

Will swim out to sea
And rescue the me
Who is lost in a sea of


You may substitute poetry
At any point with the things
You have lay down
Resting in the soil of your soul of longing
You know it
As well as I

That which lights you up and makes you shine
Like the night sky’s first star

Ever present
Ever pointing
Ever calling, leaving you restless by night and creating by day

Always pointing
Toward the Giver of the passion

I would have asked for anything but this
But I notice He gave me a love

For poetry.


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This is Day 11 of a 31 day Series on The Art of Noticing. All previous posts may be read here.

Encouragement: A Prayer, A Poem, A Cry

Mercantile MCVL

One phrase haunts me, chases me down daily.
There is nowhere for me to go but stare at it steely eyed daily.
Wrestle with it, sit with it, stare at it, and ponder what it means for me,
To do.
My recent past dredged this up, dredges it up from the silt daily.
Once I penned some words here, scratched out some heart thoughts.
They have taken on a life of their very own, a heart, legs and off they ran.
All around this interwebby world.
Words can run fast as the wind.
Lace them up with care and grace.

One phrase echoes daily on these pages, behind the scenes in the land of stats.
I can’t come here without seeing them there.
I wrote a piece one time or two, boldly with the words
encouragement, tucked in or standing out front.
That is it – the beginning and the end of this prayer, poem, cry.

When I ask Him what to do with my words
They become my true north but I stray
Clothe in grace, wrap in love, encourage.

The number is big, so I won’t say it, it changes almost daily.
Someone finds me here,
My words and me
Googling, encouragement
A letter of encouragement, encouragement for a friend
Words have wings and I pray
They find good here.

Prayerfully, thoughtfully, deeply I cry out
Oh Lord.

Take the clay of my words, Maker of My Soul.
Grab my pen and guide it while it glides along the page.

She is writing
It’s a work of Wordsworth and poetry and nature and High School English
And I can stand in my mother stance over my daughter dear
And say these words to her
We are two and it is intimate and close
Write it like you want to, just say what you mean
You can do it spills from my heart to hers.
She makes art wobbly shaky on a page.
And I know.

If you came here on a trail of encouragement, following bread crumbs
Find it, friend and grab it
He is standing over you, before you and around you.

God is loving, reigning, holding you in the heavenlies this day.

She is writing,
And it is a work in progress
Clothe her in grace and love.

I am the launcher of words, clothe me in guided grace.

We, lover of You and lover of words, steady each mark of our pen and infuse it and us with You.

Encouragement, may it always live here.
Tucked within the lines of poetry
And prose.

Amen? Amen.


Joining my precious and encouraging friend Jennifer Dukes Lee today.