Sunday, August 31, 2025
Like a Stepson
Like a Stepson
She turns away from my proposal,
yet embraces hers with open arms.
She denies me help for the journey,
yet fills her pockets with gifts of gold.
She is rich—
so rich the air around her glitters.
Branded things parade her love,
yet her affection flows one-sided,
to her, not me.
Perhaps she whispers clever tricks,
twisting shadows into light,
tilting favor to her side.
Jealousy—
a knife I dare not hold too long.
Its edge is sharp,
its weight too heavy.
So I pray:
Lord, keep me safe,
shield my heart from bitterness,
guard my path from the hands
that weave harm in secret.
Whispers of Warning
Whispers of Warning
Many times I’ve met his face,
yet shadows linger, leaving no trace.
Something off, a quiet sting,
a chord unplayed, a broken string.
I don’t know why, but my chest feels tight,
as if my soul resists the light.
A voice within, so soft, so near,
whispers truths I cannot hear.
Perhaps my gut is speaking low,
of paths ahead I shouldn’t go.
Mysteries swirl, unseen, unsaid,
in silent signs my heart is led.
If he is false, if he is wrong,
then may the winds not keep him long.
And if his heart is meant to stay,
let truth unveil and clear the way.
The Sky Remembers
The Sky Remembers
The sky remembers every dawn,
Each whispered light the night has drawn.
A silver thread, a golden flame,
Yet every sunrise feels the same—
And somehow new, and somehow near,
A promise carved from fleeting years.
The river hums a secret song,
It carries both the weak and strong.
No stone, no leaf, no step is still,
It bends, it breaks, it bends at will.
And yet its current always knows
The sea awaits where all streams go.
So let your spirit, bold and true,
Take root in earth, drink morning dew.
For life is brief, but vast, and wide—
A shifting tide we learn to ride.
The sky remembers, so will you,
The stars you chased, the dreams you drew.
Still, I Need Him
Still, I Need Him
I still must walk beside him,
in corridors of duty and demand—
the qualifying test,
this restless semester,
the proposal defense,
that Tuesday meeting,
the final trial that waits.
I hope he is kind to me,
that no shadow of harm
will fall from his hand.
Forgive me for these doubts—
but every gesture he makes
awakens the wounds
I have never healed.
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