Poems of Doubtful Hope

Things spinning faster and faster Like a tornado tearing its way up I-40 And you yell out to someone, anyone,  But it all comes crashing down And like a house of cards The bottom drops out from underneath you.  The chaos is out,  And there's no way to force it back in the jar.  Violence in the streets,  Violence in our hearts,  Indifference to the suffering of others And rejoicing over the suffering of those we want to other Innocence is gone,  And the wizard is out from behind the curtain And the emperor is not only visibly nude But covered in weeping sores and mottled bruises.  The people who believe in the good are noticeably silent While the people who embrace the worst in us and encourage us to do the same Are sure of nothing more than their own righteous justice.  I don't put much stock in prophecy or end-times doomsayers, But things feel like they're getting downright biblical.  A revelation feels overdue,  But the things tha...

I find myself An increasingly fragile And splinter-covered crutch.  You can lean on me,  But not too hard,  Lest I collapse beneath the pressure.  I've tried to sand down the rough edges,  But the splinters keep showing up From somewhere unbeknownst to me.  I've tried to reinforce my support system,  But I'm still wobbling Anytime any serious weight Threatens to require my bolstering.  I feel like salt that's lost its saltiness.  I feel like a lamp,  Dim and flickering,  Hidden beneath a bushel While holding a flashlight,  Lying to try and convince other people The flame is still burning bright.  I am poor in spirit, but I do not feel blessed.  I am mourning (mostly my former self) But I feel no comfort.  I am meek, but I don't think I'd want the world Even if you handed it to me on a silver platter.  I am hungry and thirsty for righteousness,  But I don't remember the last time I felt full.  I tr...

Some days you're so numb  And so desperate to feel something ANYTHING You wish it would hurt like it used to. You abuse yourself, Indulge your worst instincts and impulses All in the hopes of dragging something ANYTHING  Out of the depths of your cold, dead heart. But nothing comes out. You scream into the void  Only to be met with a silence so deafening That it leaves your ears ringing. Then it hurts. Not in a tangible way That might give you hope  That something like normalcy is possible for you. But in a blinding, all-consuming heat So hot all you feel is cold  As your emotions go into shock And your systems shut down from overload.

Some days I wake up in the morning And wonder what the fuck I'm doing with my life. I'm an introvert who struggles to maintain eye contact Full of doubts about myself and God Whose job is to help other people By bringing God's light and hope with me Into the dark places they find themselves, Whether wrestling with illness Or helping and loving those who do. Is it still imposter syndrome If you're just doing a really good job faking it? Some days are better. Most days feel like they're worse. I don't even have the strength To ask you for help. If I did, I'm not sure I even know The words to say anymore. What gives me the audacity to think I can help other people When I feel so utterly helpless? What do you do When it's all in your head But the illusion is so convincing That reality is what feels fake? How do you find relief When you feel like your body Is just one big open wound From head to toe? Sepsis hasn't set in yet, But I can feel myself gettin...

When is Ezekiel coming, God? I feel like I've been waiting in this valley,  A pile of dried out bones, for years.  But it's one thing to resurrect a body,  Still covered in skin and full of guts; It's something else entirely  To turn a pile of dry bones Back into a human being.  Who were these bones before?  Who did they become after?  Were they soldiers from a battle? Both sides standing up together, Filled with your breath  After taking it away from each other?  Were they innocents slaughtered?  Were they criminals condemned? Were they "your" people,  Who believed the right things, Said the right words, And made the appropriate sacrifices?  Or were they just people You decided deserved a second chance?  The bones rattled and flew back together,  Covered in muscles that had never moved And skin that had never before Felt the warmth of the sun.  Did you cover them with clothes, too? Probably not. The God who comm...