The poems are inside youThey are swimming in your belly Climbing up your throat Slowly now Can you feel them? Breathe deep. Swallow the pain. It will give them strength for their climb. The wounds are deep and will leave wide scars But the deeper the wounds the more powerful the art And while I’m not sure that it will make you stronger Whatever doesn’t kill you will definitely give me something to say Say it.

We are writers made of ink and page

formed of pen and paper

those who never settle for the path laid out

but make their own

those who face the world with a declaration of themselves

without fear

we are those who

give the world hope We create the most powerful

weapons

tools

and truths

It is we the world needs We are writers

a living, dying breed

we see and don’t see

we write and that is

what matters

a pen for a sword

a page for a shield

a mind for a world We are writers,

we forge our own

we are us

we are words

Come and see

You tell me, baby cousinthat things, seem hopeless. I know, and if I could, I would cocoon your caterpillar body into my arms and siphon off all the pain until wings began to grow in its place and you, were ready to fly, but I am too far away.

So instead I am writing you a poem. making paper chains with my words to wrap you up and eventually, if I write enough, they may keep you warm. And maybe,when you hear the word "no” stinging your face like a sleet storm in the middle of what the weatherman said should've been a springtime day, you'll remember this poem.

when people give you cold shoulders and When life, gives you cold nights; when you want to take its icicle handouts and hang like stalicites or break off the stalicites in your hand and pierce the fledgling beginnings of ambition blossoming from your chest, please choose life.

The word “can’t” seems stuck on your tongue but all I see is possibility, it's gift wrapped in beautiful packaging even if it's unassuming, and unexpected. I've learned this from you.

You who choose to affirm people at their worst - even though you are completely unsure about your faith journey. But maybe, you know more about faith than me because well, faith is defined as belief in what we cannot see, and there are days when my self hatred blots out any good inside like dark storm clouds covering the sun, days, it would seem to be no silver lining in the seams and you still choose to believe in me.

And on the days you feel like you’ve run out of strength to believe, I still pray over your heart daily, that it stay as tender as a child's who has never experienced heartbreak. I harbor no regrets. One of my favorite poets said that it hurts to become - and that may be, but just like you believe In me, there are a few things I have full confidence in...

Number one, in the beginning God spoke - everything. Number two, this world has turned into a horrible place since then, but if this world was created by words then your words can change it. I've heard them. Number three. You. that one day, you will shine brighter than all the stars stretched across the skies of time, entire worlds will exist in your orbit, and you, will fill them with light.

So if it must hurt to become, then I hope each bit of pain enlargens your heart like a mother giving birth. That what you create will enrapture you with such joy that you will look down at your creation, cradle it in your arms, thinking every contraction was worth it and realize you are in love.

But for now, love, breathe easy. Drop the icy dagger you have pointed at your hopes and dreams. Let it melt away at this poem's feet as you crawl into the warmth of my words and sleep. You can do anything. It hurts, I know. It's because you're becoming. And this isn't hopelessness you're feeling, you're growing wings.

some days I wake up exhausted from trying to fill the space —the unbridgeable distance between whats true and what I’ve chosen as truth, between who I’m becoming, and what I ought to be; space separating me from community and family that l cannot reach.

I have made progress. the distance has changed, maybe—measured in yards now, not miles— but the strands of my hope run fragile and measure short. there’s fear here, and darkness below, and I can hear the voice from the other side of the boy who needs me.

I have gathered my courage. it rests on my chest, burning — and I will leap with it, not jump— even though I know the final gap won’t be bridged, knowing I will be lost because yes, hope and courage are buoyant but gravity is law and I chose to scale mountains knowing everything that goes up must eventually come down.

retrospective is golden, and we’re all faulty memories and secrets — and misinterpretations. and if all the reflection on the other side ever meant was, "I want you to love me.", then all I will scream back at him as I fall will be, "I gave everything in my effort to love you well."

At the corner of a small town lane, in a little coffee shop, late in the dayYou turned around and saw me, Hoping you would make a move. And you walked over and asked my name, but I couldn't say a thing. You grabbed my hand and took me away, I felt like I had wings… You said, "Sit with me tonight?"

If we were dating, I'd touch you, and not just in the private places, behind closed doors and in unlit bedrooms, but  with single fingers, tracing down your arms or with my eyes, still in unbelief that the one across from me lets me kiss their lips in bookstores & coffee shops & theaters in front of everyone, until I had memorized each of your contours well enough to know I wasn't dreaming because I'm pretty sure looking at you, I'd question whether that was really my life.

Be careful not to lose yourself -waiting for somebody else to tell you that you are special. Thats what your mouth and mirrors are for.

The day I realized this, I looked inside to find That I was filled with galaxies of undiscovered wonder. We are compilations of constellations of creative energy - supernovas of light waiting to be released, and as one of my favorite poets once said, all the colors we are inside have yet to be known existed.

I am not yet a culmination. If you must consider me, consider me a crescendo. I am special. I am a high-water mark, but tides still rise and there has never been a line drawn in the sand on the beach that the ocean has not risen to challenge. I am also not finished here.

Supernatural Stories - Preface

Two thousand years ago, Mary went looking for Jesus. Instead she found an angel who gave her an important job - to tell those closest to Him that Christ had risen as He said, and that He would meet His disciples in Galilee as he told them, but they did not believe. After calling them to a higher place of faith in who he was and how steadfast He was to his word, Jesus gave the eleven a responsibility that we as believers carry even today - He said to them, Go into all the world and preach/publish the good news to everyone. Anyone who believes and baptized will be saved. These miraculous signs will accompany those who believe: They will cast out demons in my name, and they will speak in new languages. They will be able to handle snakes with safety, and if they drink anything poisonous it won’t hurt them. They will be able to place their hands on the sick and they will be healed. Shortly after Jesus ascended, and scripture says that the disciples went everywhere and preached, and the Lord worked through them confirming what they said by many miraculous signs. How many times have we all been like the apostles? How often do we know what Jesus says - we know who He is, and we still find it hard to trust him when we need Him most? When our hearts are hardened and our faith is shaken, Jesus - our shepherd and faithful friend is there asking us as he asked the disciples, do you remember?

In these moments, we are given a choice, an opportunity even to choose to partner with heaven over our circumstances and lock eyes with the One who even the winds and the waves obey. Every story in this book is a heavenly response to a “do you remember” moment, and we are more sure than ever that Jesus is who He says He is - that He is good and steadfast. Our inheritance is the good news that when we step out on a limb, He is there - always willing and able to keep us from falling. Our king has yet to fail us and He never will. We overcome by the power of our testimony. This is the gospel. These are our stories.

When Jesus wanted to ask his disciples "Who do people say that I am?" and "Who do you say that I am?" he took them to a place called Caesarea Phillippi. Caesarea Phillippi was famous in Jesus' day for a couple of things. Here was built the sanctuary to the god Pan, the god of nature and second, a cave known as the Gates of Hades, was here. In other words, Jesus took his disciples to the "gates of hell" to ask them if they really understood who he was. He had his disciples stand in front of the gates to the underworld, in the midst of the pagan headquarters for the worship of Pan, to found his church (this is the first time the word ekklesia is used in the gospels) and to give them the keys to the kingdom.

Jesus. Thank you for reminding me time and time again that I don't have to look for you, I just have to look at you - because you are always looking at me. And even when I seem to be staring the gates of hell in the face, may I always plant my feet with the conviction of Peter when you ask, "Who do you say that I am?" and respond that you are faithful and just, that you are my hope and my peace, and you are good.

You are enough that the gates of hell will never prevail against your Kingdom. You will be enough today.

There are riots from New York to California. London. Belgium. France. Brazil. Mexico. Thailand. China. Korea. Palestine. Ferguson. For all who insist on quoting Dr. King, lets remember he also said, "Riots are the language of the oppressed." It seems as if the entire world has had enough of oppression. There is so much chaos and pain, and yet there is hope hovering over my heart that God is faithful and will not allow pain to come without something new to be born from it. Please don't misunderstand, I am still angry, but I am even more convinced of God's goodness. I believe God's Kingdom is being forged even now on the inside of this crucible, and in God's Kingdom, injustice and inequality cannot stand. Declare with me an invitation for heaven to invade the heart of every believer and burn away anywhere ignorance, hate and fear has found a home.

To the increase of His government, and His peace there will be no end, for He will reign with fairness and justice, and the passionate commitment of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies will bring this to pass Is. 9:7