A Cold Stare

Crossing my arms and legs,

Gathering myself in anticipation of my next move.

My guard is certainly up,

In heightened alertness of what you might say, or not say.

I’m cold and nervous.

Frustration binds me in a twisted knot.

Can you read my mind? I wonder.

I can stay in this position for hours,

Or until my muscles start to cramp.

Give me a match. Let me light up a cigarette.

Haze eases into the room.

What was once a glaring bulb,

Now scatters and ricochets into pieces.

I feel a creepy film cover my skin.

Wrapped up in dust and grime,

I tighten my body in the dry air.

I want to scream, but I swallow my revulsion.

Am I trapped in this cruel predicament forever?

I close my eyes, wishing I was somewhere else.

To escape from this stranglehold is my vision.

One drop of moisture is all I ask.

A God of War

God please show me that you are here. I want to believe, but I am full of doubt. How could you kill all those people and ask Abraham to kill his son and allow your prophets and church fathers to kill so many people? And what about the crusades? All that killing just because people had a different religion. How could you allow that? How could the church participate in war? Are you the same God as Jesus? If so, why are you so different?