The non Christian nature of my poems
Not rooted in love and charity
But the turmoil of a soul well oiled
I writhe in confusion
Is this a calling?
Am I meant to put pen to paper
And write out the storm
The crackle of firelight keeps me warm
But it pushes others away
Because even the best
As separate can’t stay
Only in the groundswell
In the depths of our origin
Are we one
Beyond the surface reality
Of seeming appearances
We share that underlying wellness
That defines all time
Sets a clock ticking 
And a person to mime
As though ocean days were all they had
In forests and grey hairs
We’re getting older
And I wish someone would’ve told her
That it was all okay
Oh, leave it up to me!
I turn the key
And set you free