Suicide Prevention: Please, Don’t Give Up

I recently got some bad news that a friend of mine from recovery suddenly passed away. He was only 32 years old. As these dark pandemic days drag on, I felt I needed to write this post to process my emotions.

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Saying Grace (a poem)

We say grace before meals, give thanks to God

for food in the fridge + what’s set before us

knowing not everyone is as fortunate +

there are some, right here in this city,

who are starving + scraping by –

God, thank you for our daily bread +

nourish those not at our table.

(Photo by Hannah Busing on Unsplash)

Everyday Saints

I was a mess in college.

Two years before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I was enrolled at a university in New York with somewhat of a life trajectory, a moral compass, and many good qualities.

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It Keeps Getting Better (a poem)

We’ve been together for two years

and it keeps getting better –

I know you well, but will I ever know you completely?

Your essence, sense of self, the core of you

that’s hidden and accessible only to you and God

but as the days go by, more is revealed

and it keeps getting better.

Sainthood (a poem)

What happened to the woman who

was nearly stoned to death?

Jesus said to not sin again,

but if she’s like me, she was

back in sweaty sheets later that day,

engaged in sinful acts – it’s a fact that

we’re far from saints + sainthood is

a hatred of humanity

but Jesus was half-God,

so it’s not so odd to believe

He died for me + whether I sin today

or tomorrow doesn’t matter much

because grace is free

(Photo by Laura Allen on Unsplash)

When I Die (a poem)

When I die, I want to go quietly – free from the miseries

of my body breaking down, organs sickened,

cutting off life as drift away.

When I die, I want to wake in a better world,

away from earth’s torments + the adverse emotions

gurus say we must bear.

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Surrender (a poem)

You think God has left you, that perhaps

you’ve outgrown Him –

we all want to be gods now, in control of the things

that spin around us.

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Learning How to Pray

Prayer is a funny thing. How does one do it? What’s the purpose of it? Over the years, my prayer life has changed. And the ways in which I think of prayer, and it’s various uses, has also changed.

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Fallen Angels (a poem)

Satan rebels and fallen angels follow him

to the underworld – wings clipped, eyes ablaze

with red like the demons they are.

Stand atop this holy hillside and survey the city –

if you are the Messiah, then prove it.

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Far from God (a poem)

I must get off this path of sin, and find my

inner-being in God, but I do not know how.

I pray, but I no longer feel the consolation

I once felt – that wholeness and joy, like I was

being held tightly in His arms.

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