Saturday, December 1, 2007


Where with my soul all was well
Here, still I'm always sheltered from hell
Where I'd been since the 80's
Here, men don't hold doors for the ladies
Where even strangers are polite
Here, I can't wander the streets at night
Where Fridays meant church, not bars
Here, the streetlamps upstage the stars
Where the carpet was lined with my hair
Here, I can't ever go with my feet bare
Where each meal had a serving of rice
Here, at the subways I count up the mice
Where I could always just hop in my car
Here, every person is just so bizarre
Where my mother looked out for my health
Here, are extremes of both poverty and wealth
Where I barely ever saw my dad
Here, I know he cares if but a tad
Where I airsoft-hunted rabbits with Josh
Here, pooping pigeons are my entourage
Where birds sing and the willow trees weep
Here, the sounds of the city stall sleep
Where I leeched Carina's WiFi
Here, everyday is a chicken and fish fry
Where my mother at me always frowned
Here, still her lectures and warnings resound
Where every next house had a lawn
Here they'll raise skyscrapers until the sky's gone
Where my bed- and bathroom are unkempt
Here I'm so crazy... lame poems I attempt
Where life was so comfy I settled
Here I've learned that I'm not self-contrettled
Where everyone knew of my name
Here the bohemians put me to shame
Where at times, I could kneel and be small
Here, I think I have no choice at all
Where I tried more to write meaningful things
Here is God still... and then my soul sings
Where my heart stays although I leave
Here, for the comforts of home I do grieve
Where the Lord prepared me for pain
Here, it seems godless but remnants remain
Where it's comfy but we still lack shalom
Here, I dream of again going

Well I'd say more about home vs. the Big Apple, but this is getting boring and difficult because rhyming is hard and obviously these couplets don't really contain direct comparisons and are starting to just be nonsensical strings. It's hard to stay afloat, alert, hungry, focused in a fast and godless city, my corner of which always smells like fried chicken and where living somewhere between the urban poor and the rich & famous, I forget ubuntu, forget shalom, and start to think that I'm okay doing nothing where I'm at. Cowering from pigeons is easier than fearing the Lord. Groping around in a dark pit is easier than reaching out and trusting that the pit is not too deep for His presence, because He is present... even here.