Pretending

Having grown tired of pretending to be someone else
I pretended to be me.
It took a little doing;
It didn’t come naturally.

But after a lifetime of stops and false starts
I’ve started shining through
And now I’ve met the me I am
The me I never knew.

© 2013 D. Patrick Collins

Transition

At the end of a chapter
we find ourselves
of all the blank space below the last line
terrified

But on the very next page is
the first line of
a whole new beginning.

© 2013 D. Patrick Collins

The Safest Place on Earth

Is there one hair on my head that is not numbered?
Is there one square inch of this life You are not a part of,
That You aren’t mindful of,
That You aren’t at work?

Where can I go that You are not with me?
What darkness can I find myself in that is not light to You?
What detour can I possibly take
That You have not already taken me along?

What tear can I possibly cry
That You have not already shed?

What secret can I possibly keep from You behind locked safe
That You aren’t already inside?
Keeping secret the secret You already know,
Keeping vigil over the secrets I am not yet ready to share.

For You are closer than a friend
And safer than any other.
Indeed, Jesus,
You are the safest, the very safest
Place on earth.

© 2013 D. Patrick Collins

Delight

There is
next to a good book
by a warm fire
on a cold night
no greater delight

My Dream

God gave me a dream
The best dream I’ve dreamed, by far
Not wanting it to bruise or scratch
I placed it in a jar.

Later on, going through my things
I saw it on the shelf
My dream, it did not look so hot;
I did not feel so great myself

While pondering this, God spoke and said:
“I also want your dream to come true.
That’s why the container that I’ve designed
to place it in is you.”

© 2009 D. Patrick Collins

A Psalm

Like an object set into motion by a catastrophic collision of unknown origin
and having established its course
into deep space with no apparent end in sight

but by degrees, with each speck of cosmic dust it makes contact,
with each neighboring wanderer
— a kind word, a scrawl on a graffiti wall, words jumping off a page,
a soft whisper in the ear in a prayer line
— slowed, till what seems an eternity (though in truth
compared to eternity, a mere instant of time)
I now come to rest.

Be the force that moves me. Let all negative forces
be negligible in the light of the force of love:
The lightness and light and force that does not force
but in whose field of influence no object can help but be moved, and yield,
whether slowed or sped up,
to eternity.

Presence

Like the undulation of the sea
His holy presence comes to me
Like breakers on a rising tide
His spirit finds me where I hide
Confronts my soul, then pulls away
Desires that I let go today.

And I’m the shore, the lifeless sand,
Scorched within a sun-scorched land
I harden at His sure approach
Am devastated by His touch
Fight desperately to keep my form
Like Autumn trees amidst a storm.

That Chaos, bubbling and free,
That coolness, life, and clarity
That dares to interrupt my steps
That Gesture from eternal depths.

And when His gentle waves subside
Leave smooth the contours of my heart
And traces of His peace abide
In places once lay strewn apart,
Where dry and wounded tracks had been
I long for Him to come again.

© 1993 Don Collins

Arms

I had a dream I was in God’s arms, as a child in a mother’s
But God was much greater than a mother’s
so it was more like I was in his hands.

I had a dream I was in God’s hands, as a small chick in a farmer’s
But God was much greater than a farmer
so it was more like I was between his fingers.

I had a dream I was in between God’s fingers as a laybug between a child’s
And I struggled to get out.
I spent my time trying to wiggle free;
I worried about the future
I worried about my children
I thought hard about what it would take to get ahead
And live an existence outside of His fingers
For there was no telling what a child would do with a ladybug.

If only I were larger — or He smaller — that I could be in his arms again.

Mermaid

From a very great distance
I heard your voice

caught the reflection of your
countenance

the melody that carried you

over turbulent waters

to my remote stern-
faced vessel,

causing my gaze to rise
for a moment

above the present course
of affairs demanding attention

but finding in that moment
the one I sought.

Besides, redirecting my course
overcoming uncertain seas

to draw close alongside:
I was wrecked.

Solitude

if the whole world became quiet, what would we hear?
the song of the morning bird filling our ear.
the whisper of branches, wind through the trees
the silence of mountains, the tundra grass freeze
the cadence of oceans, waves as they roam
the voice of our Father, calling us home.

  • Also Visit

    Visit my alter ego at:
    dpatrickcollins.com

  • Recent Posts

  • Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 248 other followers

  • copyright

    © 2010-2013 D. Patrick Collins. Permission to reuse in electronic or printed format granted upon request.