Saturday, February 25, 2017


I wrote this poem for a patient of mine. She was an infant with a terribly progressive terminal disease. I guess you could call this poem a "statement of faith" if you wanted to, but as a physician I despise when it seems that illness wins and my patients and their families lose. So in light of what most would call a hopeless situation, I decided to do the only thing I could do: write hope. 
I read this poem again tonight as I was going through my journal, and I felt like I needed to share it. I feel like there are lots of people who need hope, and if you are one of those, then this poem is for you. If you know of someone who needs hope, then please share this poem with them. I think it makes the world a better place when we take something born out of great tragedy and pain, and then help to turn that around for great good. Thanks :)   . 
The very things meant to destroy your hearing
Will be used to spread the sounds of heaven everywhere
The very things meant to destroy your vision
Will be used to reveal the colors and the beauty of God
The things meant to destroy your soul
Will bring healing to the nations
God has spoken, it is true
Those things brought as destruction against you
Will be the very things that lift you higher
Higher than one has ever been before

So keep looking for the door

Friday, February 24, 2017

The Angel

The Angel
There is an angel outside my window
Standing amongst the trees
Standing amongst the remains of the giants
Always looking to the gates
Standing, watching, in silence he waits
Watching the entries, the exits
The comings and goings

His head lifted slightly toward the sunsets

He reminds me often that my life is up to me
Yet there remains a guardian
Not a guardian to keep fear and pain away
No, a guardian to allow fear and pain to play
In the midst of my noisy din,
In the midst of my normal day,
Along the paths of chosen friends,
I find I live in the presence of my enemies 
While drinking the choicest of wines
Breathing the breaths that are most sublime
All the while my guardian keeps watch by the windows
What he knows no one knows
What he’s seen, what he’s heard
The gusts of the wind, the songs of the birds
The cries of my heart, the darkness of my eyes
The stillness of my soul that has been mesmerized
By the things he can see and hear every moment
But there are no moments in eternity’s scenes
Space without time, movement within rhyme
And without
I swallow pride, I swallow doubt
Nodding slightly to my silent guardian
Who still has head lifted toward the sunsets

Who can I be?
Who is this that is me?
He sits there quietly 
The gusting spring winds scattering flowers abroad
So that it appears the snow has fallen once again
A snow of pinks and purples and whites and yellows
Stories of newborn sullen fellows
Whose lives were a scattered glance
Yet in all their beauty, all their romance
The yearning lingers on
A light, a stroke, a sing, a song
The angel still keeps his watching, long
As the seas still swirling
The shoots unfurling

This life is just a whisper away

Wednesday, February 22, 2017


Isn’t it amazing
That in the midst of nowhere
God places his nicest beauties
In the places where feet trod, unbeholden,
Stomping the life out of it all
Completely unaware, uncaring, of the life being crushed

Yet right there is where His beauty lies
Right there is the place where I can decide
To keep on crushing with these weather-worn boots
Or to stop and cherish the moment

I think I’ll stay right here for a while

Monday, February 20, 2017


This is amazingly intricate
Accidental it cannot be
Every tiny fiber making it’s small contribution
Every contribution critical to the mass
I refuse to see through a looking glass
Whose lenses are shattered by mere reason
That is why even in the deadliest season
One can see that beauty exists
Beauty lives
Beauty speaks in the loudest of voices
In the quiet intricacies of our human choices,
In the fallen leaves of winter
It only takes the size of a splinter
To open the heart to reality
Reality that goes beyond our dark winters


Sometimes living poetry
Is like looking into a deep, dark chasm
I see nothing
I feel nothing
Yet I know something is out there
In there, within the darkest depths
And suddenly and without any explanation
There I just step
Falling, falling, falling
Into a place I know not
To a destiny I know not
Yet I feel the air around me growing thicker
And there is a slowing of my descent
And I feel my wings getting stronger
Strong enough to simply put them forth
And the air builds up below me
And now I am headed back up towards the lights
Able to see where I just journeyed
Seeing creatures and creation like never before
Seeing myself like never before
And it all started at the edge of a dark chasm…


That time between the worlds, secession
Where sleep is dream and wake is a question
Where our souls get closer to where our spirits dwell
And oceans wander and the deep does swell
Where light and life and echoes cease
To be just yearnings and are released
There the call of wonder comes
It beckons for the light of sun
Yet is saddened by its appearance for
The soul does long and cries for more
Of the time between the worlds in slumber
Worlds where what is not is number
Worlds where what can be are living
Worlds where what we need are giving
Everything our heart desires
In living waters and spirit fires
We step into a flowing river
That brings us warmth and makes flesh shiver
Until it seems it is no more
Where last week’s sky is this week’s floor
And all of this wrapped up in time
To walk along in slumber’s rhyme
Is to be so close to heaven we can taste it

Sunday, February 19, 2017

To Be Continued

To be continued…
I have embraced everything meant to destroy me
I’ve shunned everything that gives me love
The recognition of it all isn’t helpful
I think I might just need a death, a burial
In order to see something new
Maybe this blind man needs to view
The sunshine that starts the new day
I’ve been told to believe and pray
This I’ve done ten thousand times
Ten thousand times ten thousand
Yet here I am
On the opposite side of the universe
Floating along as the missing link
I sense my soul and body sink
Into the fires of some distant nebula

I have searched for answers
I have searched for gold
I have humbled myself
To gain riches untold
But all I have is dirt and grime
And emptiness surreal

As I sit here amongst the dirt and sand
I sling the particles of dust from my hand
Not realizing this is the very substance of magnanimous creation

I must have a new imagination
I must see things as they really could be
I must enter into a regeneration
I must plant my being beside the great trees

I must grow right where I’m planted
I must trust the farmer when it is time for uprooting
These pains, these doubts, these questions are shooting
Quite the snowstorm amongst my brain

I embrace the process

I embrace the pain

I embrace the love

I embrace the mystery

And I realize this story is to be continued…