Periphery

Shadow of a man 

that I once knew.

Or maybe I simply 

thought I knew you; 

you're wasting away 

falling by the wayside 

and no longer in my 

direct line of sight. 

You're living in the 

periphery. 

Finally, I think you 

understand your 

own unimportance, 

as your head begins 

to slowly deflate 

leaving your eyes 

sunken in, and teary. 

And all of these things 

I notice with a passing 

glance, just to check 

if I detect any feeling

within myself, 

and it's only when 

I conclude that 

nothing stirs inside me, 

that I praise God 

for allowing me to shake 

you off of my back. 

And I look away 

without consequence. 

4

Slow,
like a watched-pot boils
and steady
as an ocean after a storm,
still swirling and sloshing,
yet in comparison, so still.
You sweep over me
like the steady warmth of
a morning sun,
or the streams of water
from a summer rain.
All I can do is hold my hands
open to the sky
with gratitude and joy,
laced in my smiles
and ask for the strength,
for the ability and the will,
to see this through.
To see Him though.
To see you through.
Because slow and steady
wins the race.

3

You don't inhabit me
like some foreign disease,
threatening my life,
holding my heart at gunpoint,
but you gently pull the tethers
of these delicately woven affections,
drawing me into some other,
more beautiful place.
A place where I'm not bombarded
or besieged, taken captive, or ignored,
and I see for the first time,
the possibility of joy,
a hope for things I've never dared dream of,
and I pray
for the strength to hold out,
the will to keep my lips sealed
until you take the first step forward.

One thing is for certain:
everything seems brighter.

2

Undoing
chains wrapped around
the box in my mind
that houses my conceptions
on what this should look like,
what you should sound like,
to learn a new way
of deciphering this will.
You're the first page
of a new book,
full of promise and adventure
begging me to keep reading
and I won't hesitate to say
that I'd be happy to oblige.