All the Pretty Horses

girl standing near carousel

Photo by Abby Chung 


Joni Mitchell and a cup of tea…

I shut the door so no one can see

and dream of something kept underground

when I had to jump off that merry-go-round.


I loved the ride and all the pretty horses

I loves what I thought I would be.

I would have sold my blood to be published

so all the work could read.



I would wax eloquent and be held in high esteem…

all the other riders would admire me.

They would gaze at me on my grand carousel

marveling at all the wisdom I share.


Well now I speak in present tense…

the merry-go-round broken down and spent.

For my profound literature there is no need

I still like Joni and a cup of tea.


Sharp shooter on the roof top (part two)


ancient antique armor armour

Photo by Maria Pop

I walk on vigilant for any inkling of the enemy’s presence…deafening silence

yet in a split-second a pervasive white mist envelopes me…

I feel heavy weight and aching in my body  and spirit,  it is the supreme stealth weapon of the enemy


It is shame, my most relentless foe

The ballast of Shame slaughters aggressively,  the deadliest of weapons, worse than sarin  gas…

If I don’t kill it, it will kill me and all it touches, shame is unholy from hell


I cry out to the King,  blood seeping from my chest, a razor-sharp slice

I did not feel it at the point of entry

Towering above the shame the King appears, brandishing his two-edged sword

it blazes and radiates like a million Suns, in a blink the sharp shooter

on the roof top falls dead


I am blind now, crouching down behind my shield of Faith

the King wields his Holy two-edged sword and shame screeches like the demon it is…

instantly there is silence, my heart is no longer bleeding, I regain my sight


The Holy Spirit is the watchman, the Angels encamp around me

I savor the Holy rest of  victory this day…



Sharp shooter on the roof top (part one)

  1. war chess

    Photo by Gladson Xavier

I dreamed I am  in guerrilla warfare, watching sharp shooters on the roof tops

The King was right when he said we do not fight flesh and bone

Yet we insist on killing our own over and over,  the choice made, cannot be taken back

There are many traitors among us, or most likely they never were a child of the King


They look just like me so I cannot know who will gun me down, it is not for me to judge

The Truth can pierce the bone from the marrow, I know because it happened to me…

I must don God’s armor at all times, be vigilant in lie detection, oh the enemy is so smooth, it is a false light…

My heart is pounding, I cannot be silent, for every day is a day of war in the spiritual realm, to immense to be ignored


The manifold wisdom of God sees all, the Captain of the host holds all power in his name, Messiah, Jesus, God with us

So I take up my weapons… the belt  of Truth, the shield of Faith, the helmet of Salvation

I continue to walk behind the enemy line for I know the Battle is the Lord’s, I long to remain a diligent warrior

The sharp shooter is still on the roof, the scope on the rifle is aimed at my head, I can see his eyes dead like dolls eyes

I choose to keep walking





For many years as a young adult I felt like a “watercolor wash” painting. Blending into the dominant colors of those around me who had so much influence on my life. I didn’t even know my favorite color, food, or music. I didn’t know what I believed about life and death…and I realized I had to paint with my very own colors. My gentle memories run to those persons and I love them whether they were harsh or gentle. They had dreams of their own but listened to mine anyway and for them I am grateful…
The first and glaring color was a bright arterial red. While red is not my favorite color there is no doubt in my mind there can be no redemption without the shedding of blood. That color represents the day I met Jesus Christ and let him become my Redeemer.
The next and my favorite colors are the blues and greens of the sea and sky. The ocean, the beach is where I walked stronger and healed my heart. The salt water and wind a balm to my young weary soul. These colors are where I learned that I will live forever and that I can soar on the breeze or dive into the depths and behold my God is still there.
Yellows, pinks, and violets are the colors in my life where I flew too close to the sun and my skin was burned but the new skin grew back pink and healthy. The rich flora hues and scents drove me forward toward the goals of softness, children, and safety. Still and always learning…
The rich dark color of the brown/black dirt with its earthy scent comes next for after all this is where this earthly body was formed…how can a human not love the earth? Deep within it lies the mystery of creation and purpose…and then the clear snowy white to emerald to muddy silt of the rivers that run to the sea…a Holy Baptism there…
The last and final colors in my watercolor are silver and gold. The bright and shining stars of the galaxies. These colors remind me that I am significant but small and even greater still these colors are a testament to the infinite bigness of my God. The one who loves me beyond all measure and always will. So, I will keep painting for now and let the fire keep burning bright. On that day that I lay down the paint brush I will have said what I have to say and make my stand humbly and always trusting that life will carry on…and oh yes, I will keep painting…