how many moons

has it really been

that many days?

i swore i could never

forget your face

or the way your voice

bounced down the hall

when you called me from

the top of the stairs.

i miss the smell of your

hair at the back of your

neck when you’d just

come out of the shower.

all of these moments

are here somewhere,

tucked in my mind

needing only

a quick sound or just

a trace of a scent

and my mind will be

back there again…

thinking of you.

my heart rattles so much

these days, it feels like

a small sparrow is trapped

inside my chest.

some days i’d like

to be free of all the fluttering

and just let it go,

but i can’t.

there is a terrible loneliness,

this being alone.

i am so lost in this

oversized bed, that

most nights i just

curl up on the floor.

it’s crazy, i know.

i didn’t have enough

time to prepare,

even a hundred years

would have been too soon.

we always joked that

the passing of days

was counted by the phases

of the moon,

and here i am with

no one to help me wind

my watch properly or

keep track of the

minutes that are

passing into days.

but mostly, i am here

without you, and there

is no one to sit beside me

to help me count

how many moons

are left to be seen

or how many moons

have already gone.

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Oh Sweet, Sacred Heart of Jesus

Today on this first Friday in June, let us remember to honor the Sacred Heart of Jesus. This entire month is dedicated to His burning and merciful Heart that is waiting for you.




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frozen in time

i’d like to think that

if any of this life,

any of these days

were mine to save

or delegate,

i would go back to childhood

and have us meet

while we were

still quite young.

unjaded and unspoilt by

the passage of time

we’d be wrapped with

an innocent love,

and taken by the beauty

of the world.

but more so than that,

we’d have hearts

ready to fill with new

discoveries, and

the marvels of the Lord.

we’d climb up

mountain paths,

through winding trails

fringed with flowers and grass.

exhausted, we’d be

swept down in the

rush of silvery streams,

bouncing over pebbles

and stones as smooth as glass.

at the bottom,

we’d chase each other

with bursts laughter

and splashes of water…

then we’d rest for awhile

as our breath caught up

and filled back

into our chests.


i’d follow where

you’d want to go,

and see everything

you’d want to show.

later, as the glimmers

of the stars overtook

the night sky

we’d dance like

silly creatures under

the phases of the milky moon

drinking from this youthful cup.

as the new day was about

to break into dawn

we’d straighten up,

but before i’d allow

the tender rays of the

morning sun to guide

our way back home,

i’d look all the way deep

into your black eyes,

and with my

hand in yours,

and yours in mine,

i’d make a wish upon

every star i’d just seen,

to stay there,

with you, forever

frozen in time.

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Oh Lord, here i am

still weak and on my knees.

face down i feel like I

do not belong,

even here at Your feet.

i have no tears to bathe

You with,

my heart is dried

liked baked, crumbly

clay that has been

outside in the sun too long.

i am barren desert


Come call me home.

i am bent with age,

there is nothing

that would make

men raise their

eyes to look at me.

Will You Oh Lord, still

look for me?

Will You Oh Lord,

still come gather me

from the thorny bushes

i have caught myself in?

Will You Oh Lord,

still recognize me in

this state I am in?

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new again

Come Holy Spirit

Come, fill my heart

with those same

flames of fire that once

danced upon the

heads of saints.

well, maybe not

those firery flames

they may be too strong,

it is just me and

i barely have the

courage to get along.

Come instead like a trailing

whiff of candle smoke,

quietly, but quickly,

without delay.

wrap round me, before

i have a chance to feel

Your power and flee away.

Come Holy Spirit, Come,

Despite my insecurities

and fears,

forgive me my inability

to commit my life to You

completely, instead of

just giving over

random little pieces.

i really do want to be

engulfed by You

but I am so wearied

by years of struggle,

years of sin.

sometimes it is all I can do to

bear my weakness and

calm my fears.

Come Holy Spirit,

not loud and thundering

in the roar of wind,

but gently and softly,

with the Mercy of the

Father’s Heart,

help me submit

my will to be made

new again.

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Feast of Pentecost

When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.’
Acts Chapter 2 (NIV)

Prayer for Pentecost

On this Feast of Pentecost let us ask the Holy Spirit to come upon us. To inflame our hearts with a burning zeal to do the Lord’s Will.

Oh God, on this day you taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending them the light of your Holy Spirit.

By that same Spirit give us a right judgment in all things that we may always rejoice in His holy comfort;

through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and forever. Amen

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some poets dream

some poets dream

that with their gift of

writing words,

the walls that separate

the man from many,

would crumble, and tumble down.

poetry to some

is a sort of God song,

waiting to be sung.

a way of elevating man

from the weight of his

own savage being.

both poetry and prose,

done well,

give cause for the soul

of the simple man

to dream and contemplate

heaven and eternal things.

it gives the humble man

the ability to raise

his eyes upwards,

and pass beyond the rigidness

of time.

it lengthens boundaries,

and changes the manner

in which the brain

contemplates eternity.

poetry can be an emotional

force of wordy waves

that pound and rush forth

like blood in the veins.

but poetry can also

softly come,

trickling like midnight’s tears

sobbed quietly

so no one else

can hear.

poetry, to the humble

poet, is a sort of calling

from the Lord, it is

the use of God’s good gifts,

to reach through the

confines of our mortality,

and explore those heavenly


where one day we might

have the chance to meet

some of those whom

with our gifts,

we were able to encourage

to soar upwards and dream.

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a bit of my heart

you will always hold

a bit of my heart,

so I ask you,

please take care of it

from here on out.

you know, as well as I do,

there is no ever going back,

we have seen the future

and there is no

place for us in it.

perhaps it was fate,

or just happenstance

that we ever even met.

i used to think everything

that happened with us

was from the hands of God,

but i don’t know anymore.

i can’t pinpoint the moment

where i veered off His path

and started creating my own.

but you were there, and

for whatever it is worth,

it felt like it was meant to be.

but we are not children,

and we both should

have known that

actions led by our emotions

are never really who we are

or where we should

lay our paths.

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the Living Waters

there is within me

an endless well of poison drink.

secretly tucked all the way

in the center

where my heart begins to beat.

it is a bitter drink, concocted there,

developed really, over the years.

each outburst of anger, or lie or

doubt, adds to its potency.

it is so caustic

that it threatens to

rot me from the inside out.

everyone of my troubles

take root and sprout from

this infectious well within me.

weakened by my

insecurities and attachments

to sin

my own strength is gone.

i am incapable to

do anything on my own.

Oh Lord, cleanse me

as You cleansed the lepers.

i am tired of clinging

to such damaging potions,

i am tired of not only

fermenting them,

but also, drinking them back in.

Cleanse me Lord

from this stain of sin!

Cleanse me and make me new again.

i beg and believe in

Your Mercy and Grace.

Please Lord, cleanse me of this


i have bathe too long in these

drudges of death and sin.

wash me Oh Lord in

Your Living Waters…

change me

so that like the waters of Marah

with You, i may be made fresh,

with You

i may be made new.

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St. Philip Neri

Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and makes us persevere in a good life. Therefore the servant of God ought always to be in good spirits. – Saint Philip Neri

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