It is both dark and peaceful. It is dark because we truly don’t know how the future will play out. We give ourselves to a silent death, death by a slow fire… But this silent flame is hard to perceive. You might not see it. Those who love you might not see it. But God is burning away all you have depended on. But don’t worry… this slow burning death is not only dark, it is also peaceful. — Let God; Winn Collier
The sun settled in fire and ash that night –
a long, smoldering sigh,
drawn out in cool wind,
an ache and a kiss,
unquenched longing; restless, constant call
and I hesitate to bring such an unpoetic thing
into the sacred realm of poetic
why do I fear its marring?
is truth not true enough for sacred ground?
still, I cannot deny
that I drank in the fullness
of that aching, ashen sky
and carried it in my lungs
all the way to the television,
where I held it for two hours worth
of another being’s made-up story,
the whole of it burning, quietly
there in my chest – quivering and wrestling
as I hoped for the chase
of my own story –
the sky-wide-wind in my lungs deepened,
and my own muddled, desirous
fiery ache and kiss
found good company there.
Oh, hope that does not disappoint,
show your face in the fire,
harness the wind I swallowed
and call it faithful
call it true.