Thursday, May 27, 2010

White With Blue Stripes

Like most people, I wear my faith on my sleeve.
So I weep.
Not because of faith. Although at times, I believe.
I weep because my shirt isn't white enough.
When my brothers button on the starchy white of atoning sacrifice,
I wear a white shirt with blue stripes.
But at least I'm not that guy with the black necktie.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

What is Tonga

Captain Cook called these the Friendly Islands,
He left before friendliness could kill him.

There isn't much to hope for, or much to do.
Nevertheless life goes on. And with a smile too.
Not because people are abnormally blessed with
gracious opportunity, rather because they use their
faith as a cornerstone to build their smiles. And their faith
is stronger here than back home.

The air sticks to the skin like crisp folded sheets,
But the nights are too hot for sheets, so you sleep
with your feet spread apart, and your heart mixed
with a desire to impart. But hearts are meant to remain whole.
When you do find sleep, or it finds you, dreams seem to rise and fall
As frequently as a squall.

The swaying palms and sparkling water aren't as free as they seem.
Mosquitoes swarm, and spiders creep everywhere that is green.
Everything is green, or hot yellow sand.

The sun doesn't shine, it fries.
And all my food seems to be deep fried.
But that's just because I'm American.
So I use sunscreen.

The dogs are mean and usually unclean.
The rats are nice and scratch in the night.
The pigs are many and most often seen.
All taste about the same.

A car falls apart before your eyes, while you ride on the inside.
And bathroom mats are black. If there are bathroom mats.
Mine has no mat.

And when you close your eyes, and feel the slight salty breeze,
Something unlocks. A sort of thaw. Because when you close
Your eyes you realize, how lucky you are.