Molasses for the Morning

Molasses for the Morning

I cut down an evergreen tree,
Rung out the sap she preserved,
And dripped it in your morning coffee.

I thought if you drank her syrup,
You might become as faithful as she—
Standing tall, bearing beauty, even in cruel seasons.

Maybe you would catch her honesty too,
Cutting your heart opened to reveal spirals
That say how long you have really loved me.

If only this nectar would keep you true,
We could have it all—
Every border of every world,

Living a thousand years,
Being found with a thousand rings,
A thousand loops to our honor.

Her Name is Not Slut

She was poorly dealt with. 
She was dealt with poorly. 
But we don’t see it... 

Because we are fixated on her clothes,
Her smell, seductive glare, her scandalous hair.

So she is labeled “slut” as she struts,
But she just wants someone to say she is pretty.

Our blinders are absurd. She slurred
And we mark her with terms that make us feel pure.

But don’t see it... the moment when
She was poorly dealt with.
She was dealt with poorly.

She puts a needle in her wrist. We twist
and squirm to avoid any type of friendship.

She laughs too loud, too much;
the drugs are the only hugs

She gets in the morning,
But for us it’s “how annoying!"

How offended we are.
“Sick. Gross. YUCK.” But she is stuck

In one day where...
She was poorly dealt with.
She was dealt with poorly.

Not Without My Travelling Buddy

Not Without My Travelling Buddy

I know that you will go to heaven someday.
I know that I will go to heaven someday.

But I’m concerned about those moments
when one of us beats the other,

and one of us is left here
on this materialistic abyss,

this plane of nonsense,
to face the heat of the morning by ourselves.

If I go first,
if I beat you,
I dread the clock ticking to the rhythm
of stale memories you see.

I’m concerned that the stars
will watch you weep
and in their empathy fall down,
making darkness that much darker.

I fear for you.

But I fear for me too.

If you go first,
If you beat me,
What will I do at quiet midnight?
Who will eat the pie that I burn?

I'm concerned that the sun
will watch me weep
and in its mercy fall down,
inflaming your leftover laughter.

I refuse to face this barren earth alone!

I do not want to sojourn
on golden streets without you.

I do not want to sojourn
on this gravel globe without you.

Taming Madame Nullard 

She is severe.

She has the beak of a black bird, 

Red claws, a snake spine; 

Her smile is a twisted;

Hello, rabid raccoon. 

Greetings, black mamba. 

She is ugly—

She is scary—

She is

The one who refuses to dream. 

J. Chéri

"I Watched Jehovah"

For my mother, after my parent’s divorce... 

"I Watched Jehovah" 

Even though I could not feel God’s presence,

and I was disappointed

with the outcome of my productivity,

and life’s emergent pain,

I did see,

I did watch,

something that will never leave me:

I witnessed supernatural abundance

bound up with unconditional love.

I watched God work

when he sang over my mother as she grieved loss,  

when he gave her a job that paid more than she thought possible,

when he presented to her a place to call home,

flinging open doors to a haven of relief.

I watched God work.

I watched God work

when he restored to her friends she did not know were around,

when he hampered the fists of fret, anxiety, and fear,  

when he held her hands in the shadows,

and took the heaviness of sorrow off her spine.

I watched God work.

I watched God work

as he exchanged beauty for years of ruin,

as he resumed her laughter despite the reality of hurt,

as he took up for her—being her husband—

because earthly people do not love perfectly.

I watched God work.

I watched God work

when he spoke truth to keep her footsteps firm,

when he reestablished unto her security of sound mind,

when he anchored her heart at the port of forgiveness,

and made her stand straight with a poise of peacefulness.

I watched God work.

I watched God worked

when he declared himself to be

Jehovah-Jireh—her provider,                                *The God who provides

Jehovah-Nissi—her banner,                                   *The God who is the banner

Jehovah-Rapha—her healer.                                  *The God who heals

I watched God work.

I do not know what all that toiling and ache was for,

And although I could not see God in my life,

I watched his hands in her world.

 Now, not because mother-like-daughter,

but because God let me see him move,

I am confident that in any future valley

he will be my Jehovah too,

and I will look back on my own life and say:

I watched God work.