Taking it, because I taught myself to
Listening, because all they did was subdue
Oh, what an awakening
Rose flower, time to see a blossoming
From first sight of a hue
To petals fragile, trying to break through
Rose flower, touched pruned, positioned
But truly blossom, she hasn’t
The rose wants to blossom
Her way, bend if she must
The rose wants her true growth
It’s time, their opinions must go with the dust
As you find yourself
Chasing after your dreams
Bringing life to your desires
There’s a meanwhile
That encircles you
Our Creator, Our God
He knows best
He wants for us
What will exceed
Our highest expectations
Dear one,
Fret not,
Over what’s on the other side of the fence
But in the meantime
Floating in the meanwhile
Be content, and also ready yourself
For a forever blessing
When the going gets tough
There and then
A pouring, of what we’re made of
No one looks at the bird in flight
To make mention of its fatigue
But let same bird see a falling
Poor bird, with ruffled feathers
When the going gets tough
You keep going, soaring high like the bird
Till you meet ground
Poor fellow, with a few hiccups
You’ve seen a falling?
Get up, you forlorn one
And try again, that you may fly
To heights you once knew
There, there, my love
See how the gap bridges in
Distance is fading, time is nigh
The genesis of our union,
One full of awe and purpose
It’s happening, I see you soon
The giddiness of potential
Oh, what an unfolding, we behold now
The realization of loving and being in love
Thus far we have come
Thus far the Lord has brought us
The Lord has been good and faithful
Anticipation is an understatement
See my body, ever so eager
Arms mimicking an embrace
My shoulders, they prepare,
A resting place for your head
And my heart, ever jumpy like an anxious puppy
We have known for a while
That we’re worth each other’s time
We’ve cultivated a garden
That bears fruits of love
To say I love you is not enough
But I’m forever thankful that we found each other
A day at a time
A tear that will dry
There is a reason,
There is a season
But still there is despair
A hug to say all is fine
A word of encouragement
To calm a racing mind
But there will still be that moment
Hands in pockets, and emptiness felt
Such is a revisiting sorrow
That comes in waves
Such is a daunting anxiety
That comes uninvited
Such is the guilt felt
For shifting the mood
So I ask that you bear with me
You jolly soul, best friend, confidant
One day it may be well
One day the pockets may be filled
With something other than emptiness
Something worth remembering,
Something that will carve a smile
The little things
Do make the difference
It has taken some years
But the eyes now see this
Some fancy jewels
But she, a reading chair
For the lustre many seek after
Is second to a great novel
The little things
Do make the difference
Like a bowl of macaroni and milk
To appease the hunger pangs
Some prefer take out
But she, a home cooked meal
Because temporary delicacies
Wear out this body, her temple
The power of silence
Confronting many with their burdens
Today the wick glimmers
Telling of strain and uncertainty
But hope should not leave you
You, forlorn fellow
Dawn sweep away the perils
That chided me in sleep
Praying and crying out, though nasal
My Saviour, He hears me weep
Turned on side, pillowing my fears
The stillness, so loud, envelops
Reminded of a hymn to repress the tears
Gathering courage, to never give up hope
The day is bursting through
And the remnants of night, they fade
Flee away you woe, perhaps one or two
For today we choose joy, and will not trade
In a world of chaos
Some are choosing their blues
The big ones, the little ones
And they ponder in recluse
So be wary and considerate
That you know not their fate
For some have slept
Only to wake and walk
Walking, but not existing
For some have dreamt
A thousand dreams, yet still sulk
Moping in misery
And for some, they are hoping
For a glimpse of a miracle
Hands clasped tightly
As they mumble prayers of petition
And as for the writer,
She cries out for reassurance
Tonight, feeling weighted more
By the littlest of blues
Tower of refuge
They say You are
But to get to You,
Is going to take some effort
Lord be my helper
As I find my way to You
Tower of restoration
I’ve heard You are
But I’m deceived,
By the people so few
Lord quench the lying voices
That stay manipulating my thoughts
Tower of Purpose
Stay right where You are
Because I’m not losing You this time
Be it bend or bump on the way
I’m coming to You Lord
Sometime between sunset and sunrise
Night of laments
So why do I see the stars?
For every mistake, a choice I made
Night so contoured
Why do I sense hope?
The haze, slowly fading into the horizon
Night, of…restoration
Certainly must be
Regrets are in the distant
Someday, worried one
You’ll find the light
Someday, wretched one
You’ll be on the other side
Through the swampy marsh
Over the land mines
Past the naysayers
Beyond any obstacle
Someday, somehow
You’ll rejoice, where the light resides
Gone are the hours of yesterday
And dawn, knocks behind the window pane
Before we let her in,
There are some matters to resolve
A worrisome heart and a pondering mind
Loud is the silence
But louder is The Voice
Beseeching and reassuring,
That we worry not about the morrow
And spare some minutes to rest
But stubborn as we are,
Owing to our human nature
We toss, turn and fret
And try to reconcile with hope,
With one question taunting, “How many more sighs, Lord ?”
The best is yet to come
It wasn’t today
Nor was it yesterday
Perhaps, a morrow sooner
The best is yet to come
I tell myself every day
Someday, one day
The waiting time, shortening
The best is yet to come
Said gleefully, because…
Who knows, it may very well be
Right after this utterance
Babies, pure till they meet the world
But what is and isn’t doubt, before it’s stripped ?
We only then will know
When the medium that bears it
Is cast away
Drumroll, drumroll please…
I give you, present to you, the benefit of doubt
Let the innocence of the white snow
Make all seem without flaw
Let their footsteps
Reveal a sense of direction
But in reality
There is a story to every footstep
There is no doubt, but this, you do not see
Till the snow melts away
Till the footsteps no longer tread one way
Till the footsteps of a stripped innocence
Come knocking at your door
In an unexpected cold winter
To serve you back
Leaving no doubt, whatsoever
bowendiaries 