Maybe ignorance is bliss...

But maybe when we learn things we didn't think we wanted to know, we begin to see with new eyes. And maybe, in having new eyes, we can discern new joys we would have never known otherwise.

Different beliefs, one hope...

I am comfortable putting stock
in something I can’t see.
I can’t hold it in my hands
a show-and-tell trophy
but its effects are evident
even though I can’t pin it down

much like the wind.

You require scientific reasoning
logic, data, proof
fact not feeling
before you commit and risk
joining the masses of individuals
who you believe worship a myth

much like the Greeks.

Before bed, we sit side by side
hearing reports of
war and rising floods.
Though worlds apart,
we both hope for a savior
to rise from these streets.

C.S. Lewis

God lends us a little of His reasoning powers and that is how we think. He puts a little of His love into us and that is how we love one another. When you teach a child writing, you hold its hand while it forms the letters: that is, it forms the letters because you are forming them. We love and reason because God loves and reasons and holds our hand while we do it.

Hum of life...

this city hasn't heard silence
since bohemians found the beat
industrial exhaust and bent-railed screech
cling to the night air
hide in your ears

subway stations filled with voices
of prophets and lovers
the rattle of change in paper cups
the unrealized dreams of street musicians
lingering like the condensation of hand prints on windows

but there is something soothing
in the chaos outside these walls
distant sirens, trains discord
bodega shelves being stocked
club goers returning home

the thrilling hum of life.

Heart attack...

you mention the strength of my back
trace the curves of my
shoulders with your fingers.
you speak of the past and
how it wrestled with our hearts,
how they came out mangled
yet fiercer than before.

in the face of danger
i would fight off the wildest animal
if its glare met yours.
i have no doubt that, for you, i can be strong.
the fear lies in losing you.
that what is under the sinew and bone
of this back is a network of veins
pumping blood through my ribcage to my heart.
that what has been mangled before
can be mangled again.
that the wild animal would
tear this body to shreds.
loss defeating love.

Same hands...

you are different
but you have the same hands
the same mouth
so it's hard not to remember
that our hands used to fit together
so perfectly on a night—any night—
spent on the couch, television on.
now we stiffen
as our hands graze one another
inches apart on the same couch.
your same hands.

The single have no bedtime...

the single have no bedtime
no curfew to meet
they may stay up for hours in front of the computer's glow
they may not leave the sofa until 3 a.m.
groggily making their way to cold beds, dark rooms

they are not prodded by the internal clock of another
there is no finishing prize
no warmth beside them
no heavy breath in the midnight air
just the rustling of sheets as insomnia sets in