For my Uncle

Encamped at night amidst the hills
The shepherds tend their flocks
The spring air calls the kings to war
And darkness creeps the walk

The man in darkness now in light
Amidst the preachers soul
He smiled so big when Peter called
And made the darkness go

Toward my face he smiled at me
My older counterpart
He held my hand amid the darkness
And the ship of light embarked

On the way to Valinor
His hands raised in glory
The ship it sailed to ever more
Thought not the end of story

The ship it landed at dock
To the cottage of lost play
Where darkness never berates the sun
And the tattered soul not turned away.

I wrote a letter thursday to my uncle, I never sent it, Friday he went into a coma and today (Satuday as of 10:00 he is dead) here is that letter...
Dear Uncle,

It has been a long time since I have really sat down to write you, I was thinking about that today before I went to chapel and realized I had to remedy that situation. I can figure why it has been so long since I have written you and in the next few paragraphs I would like to expound on that and also apologize.

Hearing of your illness struck me to the heart. I have been thinking today of our relationship, you were the first one to discuss with me the hypothesis in the order of the writing of the gospels. I know that sounds trite but it helps me understand our relationship better. I have always looked up to you as a preacher and even as a scholar. You have a deep and personal knowledge of scripture that can be seen in the way you live your life, but even more so in the way you deal with your illness.

From what I have seen you savor life as a gift from God and with strength you take what comes to you. I have always looked up to you for that trait. I realized while talking to grandmother today for the first time how important you are to me, and how much support you have always given me. When I went to graduate school you applauded me and when I went into ministry you gave me monetary support. For the first time today I have accepted that you aren’t well. In words I have always prayed for you, but this morning my soul cried out to God for you. Today was the first time I asked someone else to pray for you, and while I was doing it I realized why it had taken me so long. I didn’t want to accept that someday you won’t be here. I love you Uncle, you and grandma have been the biggest influences in my life in ministry, but you alone I have identified with the most. As I told your situation in chapel today I began to cry. All the sudden my past few months rushed back into my head. I apologize for my neglect to thank you more often, and also for my neglect to pray for you. I was scared, because once I started praying for you I knew that I had to really believe what is happening.

Thank you for all the support you have given me. I love you Uncle.

God Bless you

Justin M McCreary

I never really fiddled with prose much but I figure why not:

Gaydon looked at her, his eyes never blinking and his mouth never drier. He worked the courage up and up again but the words never left his mouth. As Cheryl looked at him with eyes that declared confusion so deep that no maxim could explain her the truth. It was all Gaydon could do to spit out the phrase, “What if anything is your hearts desire?”
Coming from Gaydon this was not an odd statement. He was often pictured as a thinker and his conversation on more than one occasion had caused a stir as these friends would sit around their lunch table. With a laugh Cheryl simply replied, “true love.” Gaydon had to fight to keep his expression from changing to drastically, he had to keep the air that he was above all answers and that he understood everything. At no cost could he lose his image, the image of a wiseman. If only Gaydon knew, he was the only one who saw his self this way. With a forced chuckle, to hide his nervousness, Gaydon remained without word. Then Cheryl smiled at him, quoting Hanible Lector in the Silence of the Lambs Quid pro quo, what of you?
There were a thousand things Gaydon wanted to reply with, one thousand bold statements that would declare his love, one thousand statements that would make her melt into his arms. But what if she felt different, what if she laughed? Gaydon in his had had formulated a statement that could say just enough to get her to inquire deeper but still hid his truest feelings. “Salvation from guilt.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Cheryl asked with a smirk, “sounds more like a cop-out to me.” Rushing into Gaydon like balefire came a flood of responses, but nothing to really explain what he meant. Gaydon had over intellectualized his self. Because of that there was no reply he could make that would answer her question without saying too much.
“Just that,” Gaydon hesitated, “It is hard to say everything I want to say when…” and he trailed off. Cheryl perked up but Gaydon faded away and walked back to his dorm finishing the phrase in his head. “It is hard to say everything I want to say when I stare into eyes so innocent when my soul is so dirty.”

Muggy Thursday

The heat of the ground burns off in fog
The water so hot burns in the bog

The true night descends upon my dark face
Of laughter I hide I hide in my place

The candle in heart flickers so bright
The darkness around depressing the light

The saddle I wear it causes me pain
The rider I bare he inflicts me with shame

The smile he wears as he whips my broke back
It descends on me like a wolf from a pack

The heat it swelters surrounding my members
The rain makes the fog rise from the embers

The ground is so hot the day is so muggy
The people in darkness the light is so ugly

The calendar stares and laughs with such glee
It laughs it laughs it laughs only at me

For the end isn’t here nor is it marked
The day when the far off dawn will embark

And the rain it slows and the heat deprived
For only a moment until its demise

Natures Race

The bird she flies about the storm
The nest it calls her home
Through the sea of wind and rain
She flies so tattered n torn

The ghosts of death torment her wings
The powers that be, all tremble
For within her beak is breakfast crying
The meal is there so humble

One tree two tree pass her by
She flies among the dark
Three and four in vain liqueur
Reaching at her sight

And death she reigns when hearts are tossed
Amid the Storms and trials
A head so bold it stares direct
Casting off the irons

And the branch from whence she came
The nest to where she flies
In her sight it cries to her
Her babies are all right

Now she comes to land in clear
To feed her hungry children
The golden eyes they spark so quick
And the cat then feeds her kittens…

A dear friend told me last night she wanted to read a happy poem and I didn't have one at the time so I hope she doesn't mind it a little late. For inspiration I read, Oh the places you go and The things you can think I suppose it is a bit of a childrens poem.

The Birthday Poem


The day starting bright
With sun shiny rays
So you ask mom and dad
“What should I do today?”

Mom says to you
“Go clean your room”
Daddy just smiles and says
“Sweep with the broom”

Though not on you’re “A” list
The clean cleaning of rooms
And not even your “B” list
The sweep sweeping of brooms

You grab up a toy
You make up your bed
You grab up the broom
You sweep out the shed

So you finish your chores
Being happy not sad
That once again you approach
Mom and Dad

You say Mom Mommy
“What for now should I do?”
You say Dad Daddy
“I’m done with the broom too.”

Mom looks at dad,
Daddy to Mommy
They smile and say,
“Why not find Tommy.”

So out the door you head
With a splash
Because you live on a boat
And forgot to the last

You swim to the boat
The one three boats down
And yell out to Tommy
“Come out before I drown”

Tommy comes out
Still in clothes bed
You look at ol’ Tom and say
“You hear what I said?”

Tommy looks at you swimming
He opens his mouth
His Yarning sow loud
His breathe like dead mouse,

So without a word
You head back to your boat
And while on the way
You stop for a float

You don’t quite rush home
You float on the floater
You wave and say
Good day to the boaters

And when you go home
The sun is quite setting
So late in fact
You start some fretting

And you crawl up on your boat
Say hi to Mom mommy
Dad daddy stands there
And also stands Tommy

Happy Birthday they say
Tommy’s breathe not so bad
Did you have a good birthday?
So did you, Young Lad?

God Bless
justin

if there are any animators out there let me know :)

This is short and it probably sucks and I will probably be sorry I posted it, so here this is what my heart is yelling at me


Where are you,
I said goodbye
Where’d you go
I left you there

-heptide

Here is another lovely installment:

Senseless Poem

I don’t have the words
To give you a poem
I don’t have the hands
To enlighten your soul
I don’t have the strength
To bleed for your sins
I don’t have the heart
To make your life whole

The poem I write is nothing at all
The people who read it never call
The ones to whom written all fall away
The words disappear as alone we stay

My hands are so weak they can’t hold a stone.
As I lift it so passive, sitting alone.
As I watch them just whither, so lost and forlorn
I fall to my knees and pray, “Make me not born.”

I feel my strength passing away in the night
Alone in the darkness, the people all fight
I can’t lift them out, useless to all
I can’t find your heart if you’d even call

And in that darkness my heart pass away
Your life will go on, and here will I stay
What is the point, as nothing will come?
I can’t even try, to make you the one.

Oh in the darkness I watch you smile
Like a statue not moving, Adam post fall
My ears hear you laugh my arms make no motion
And I fade away, lost in the ocean.

YWFHD

I am posting an old poem I wrote. The topic has been on my heart fairly heavily lately, let me know what you think.

The Demon

As I look upon the fresh fallen snow,
The Newborn has his wake
I hear the dreams in my old mind
Through nothingness, I partake

The tarns are dark within my heart
The waters, stale and cold
The ice has born up round my soul
As I walk about my fold

Where to look to find the lost
If I am the last to leave
For where to keep the sacred thoughts
The ones to which I cleave

I cannot hear the demons waken
To kill the fairy dreams
They came to me as soft I slept
And awoke to hardened screams

The vault was cracked and there I cried
The emptiness I felt
For all the years in hereafter
The memory where I dwelt

The pot of gold that made me sweat
In the world of fast excitement
Was reconciling the oldest thoughts
Of my old and lost enlightenment

The demon came as I slept
“Old Age” was his name
He took the pot of gold away
I will never be the same

For if I was the last to leave
This life of wonder bliss
The fairy dreams from which I lived
Were taken without consent

My memories, the pot of gold
The demon named Old Age
My safe so empty anymore
Away he won’t stay from sage

Incantations I have tried
To give me back my life
But in the end the demon came
And makes it not worth strife

For in the world came the child
Life of ignorance
He smiles bright without his gold
Without the decadence

For out the world leaves the man
Death in ignorance
He smiles bright without his gold
Without the decadence


-justin

Every day we set out on another leg of our journey. As I plot my course I watch the grass blowing in the wind. Everyday we set out, we run, we walk, somedays we crawel. We dow always move, for the good or the bad.