My Manifesto

Let it be now.
That I would not trust in anything that fades, but trust in You and You alone.
That we would walk hand in hand, as daughter and father,
as friends, as lover.
That I would see You in it all,
even the shattered and broken.
That I would never be comfortable
never stop asking questions,
never stop pondering life,
never stop writing.
That I would give, that I would grasp nothing,
that I would let my heart bleed and not be afraid.
That you would keep me guessing, bring on the mystery,
the intensity, the adventure.
That you would make me mobile like the wind,
faceless like a ghost, and fragrant as jasmine.
That I would share in your glory and suffering,
see the beggar on the street as my brother,
and the made up televangelists wife as my sister.
That you would give me the courage to walk out what
you have showed me creatively and confidently,
never stop speaking truth, put a name on the face of love.
That our hearts would be knit into one.
That my blood would flow with your grace.
That I would tear down the pedestals and political agendas,
religious ideas and caste systems.
That love would be all that compels me.
That you would open my eyes to see the counterfeit contentment
in dollar signs and advertisements
That I would shut out the voices that tell me I will be happy when_____.
That you would teach me to live in the NOW.
Breathe in every moment.
Give all I have.
That I would disappear and let You take my place.
That I would dance like a four year old,
trust like a newborn,
and speak with the wisdom of a gray-haired grandma.
That I would never put my dreams and desires before knowing You.
That I would never think I have it all figured out.
That I would stop trying to figure myself out.
That you would speak in media and children, in oceans and buildings,
in the laughing eyes of a Chinese man and the convicting words of an American preacher.
That my ears would be always open,
my heart always ready to obey
and my hands always ready for action.
This is it. Now. Fear no longer owns me.
Nothing is holding me back.
I am falling face first into you and all that you have for me.
I will open my mouth, taste the living waters, breathe in deep
and drown,
that I may die
and find true life in you.

Tattered White Flag

my muscles are weakened by atrophy
yet this is the most hopeful catastrophe
I cant fight anymore
now hands are feeble like a newborns
barely grabbing your thumb
instead of gripping a gun
cause I am done fighting you
done trying to stake claim over fields of my heart
I never owned in the first place
the soils dry but in time it will soften with rain
that falls from my own suffering and pain
the bloody battles finally over
I stake a white flag in the ground and surrender
cause these lands have been occupied by rapists and thieves
disguised as gentlemen and royalty
but you, you fought violently for me
to bring back peace for the sake of peace
to bring back freedom so I could be free
the wind is stirring up scents of new things
it rustles the tattered white flag gently
Whats gonna happen next, I dont know
but I know from these blood stained fields
flowers and gonna grow

Rage Against The Bondage

There’s a rebellion necessary for life.
A gripping, gritty, bloody freedom to fight for.
(it’s mess)
Yet, it isn’t in the sense of fighting the world has.
In hate, in division, in brutality.
This is the fight of a pine tree to push its way out of the ground.
This is the fight of a baby to get out of the womb, to breathe his first breath.
(it’s nothing but neat)
We must embrace this rebellion: the push, the fight, the difficulty, even the rage.
Yet, this isn’t the rage of the world:
Rage In selfishness, in bitterness, in pain.
This is the turning of the tables, the screaming of the truth, the standing in a silent infiltrating rage,
Of refusing to be moved, to be shaken, to be wrapped in shackles once again.
This is the kicking down of brothel doors, the holding a lepers hand and refusing to let go, the singing hopeful songs in the darkness.
This is the rage of refusing to be in bondage, of refusing to see your brothers and sisters in bondage.
This is the spark in the eye of our Lord, our freedom fighter, our passionate lover who in rage against our bondage, bled till He was an unrecognizable mess, knocked out death with one blow,
So now He rebels against the system of this world, gives us our first breath, shouts on behalf of us, sings over us, stands for us, ripping off chains with His bear hands so He could hold ours,

Because He has to have us.