I Want To Remember You Like This For Always

Fire and Ice

I have four blankets on my bed. I am in socks, sweatpants, and a sweatshirt. It is cold in my apartment. Not like a refreshing cold; the kind of cold that bites at your skin and causes you to convulse instead of shiver. The cold that gets to your soul…

The cold seeps into your body and into every crevice of your life. Schoolwork, relationships, health, attitude, sleep – none can escape the bitterness of the cold. Suffering and pain are never far behind. Your heart aches soon after the first chilly breath. Your mouth runs dry from the parched air. Your stomach pangs because it knows not all is well. Your mind goes numb from the frostbite; it cuts off all senses. You become frozen, helpless, in cold, icy waters, with no rescue in sight.

You look left, right, in front, behind; life is to be seen nowhere. You grow colder, slowly turning into the icy water itself, becoming one of the cold.

But then you by chance look up, as if a snowflake fell from the sky, making your neck crane skyward. At first you see nothing but your still breath. But wait…

There, in the grayness of the sky, one sliver of light hits your eye, and you see. You see a mere glimpse of light and warmth, of life. At first you do a double-take – it can be nothing but a mirage, a fantasy of your deep desire for something more than the frigid waters. It doesn’t go away when you look back. It penetrates your eyes, you face, your heart, the very essence of your being. It can’t be real. No way could such warmth exist in this lonely sea. Oh, but it does! It is a sweet warmth, one that touches your soul and fills you to the brim, overflowing with life and hope.

You want the warmth. You want to be drenched, smothered, embraced in this gentle, tender glow. It is like no warmth you have ever felt. It is soft, welcoming, peaceful. It does not burn your skin or cause you to itch. You can bask in this light all day for it will never harm you. When you are in it, all the feelings of the cold vanish. Not a single shiver runs up your spine. Not a single chatter of your teeth. This warmth envelops you, seals you off from everything. You are not capable of being ravaged or ruined, inflicted or wronged. Nothing, not one cold thing can touch you. It frees you from the cold of the earth and the cold that lies within you.

You can move; you are no longer frozen. You feel. You feel perfect. You feel good. You feel loved. You feel God.

You want this warmth more than anything. More than warm clothes. More than a burning fire.  More than any of your heart’s desires. You will give up anything to capture it.

You reach. You grab. You step. You climb out of the frigid water and begin to rise. You rise up past the seemingly unconquerable snow-peaked mountains, past the stinging air, past the cold. The warm light carries you upward, high among the stars, up to the Son, where that first ray of sunlight was born. The brightness of the blazing fire radiating from the Son and the intense, burning heat feel like no other. It ebbs into your body, healing all the damage the cold has inflicted upon you, mending every wound of the heart and soul. It fixes your eyes so you can see clearly, see the light for what it truly is.

Then you understand, at last. You see life. You see love. You see the Son and He stares back at you. His eyes pierce yours and you are complete. One with the warmth. One with the light. One with the Creator at long last.

The cold can touch you no more for you have become like the Son, full of light and brilliance and everlasting love. And the Son loves you, and you Him.

 

Brohan

http://brohanband.com/BrohanBand/Audio.html

http://www.myspace.com/jldbrohan

Seven Times?

Joseph Kony killed a person.

Forgive.

Joseph Kony kidnapped a child.

Forgive.

Joseph Kony killed hundreds.

Forgive.

Joseph Kony mutilated children.

Forgive.

Joseph Kony burned families.

Forgive.

Joseph Kony raped women.

Forgive.

Joseph Kony refuses peace.

Forgive.

Untitled

I am my own worst enemy

Lord give me what I don’t deserve, the grace I need.

Help me to see things I can not see

that what’s killing me, is really me.

Not honorin’ my father in,

His will for life, mines filled with strife

My goal self saving, soul wholly depraved

Think my plans will bring me life, and joy

Like trusting in a shiny toy

Not your word with promises that endure

I work so hard to find my own cure

The cross is just, you died for us,

my sin nailed to the tree,

no longer on me, eternally

Still trusting in my own plans

but knowing God’s making me a new man.

Give me new strength so I can withstand

my flesh telling me that I am,

not in need of the one that we can call love,

a Savior who saves me from sin and all the above,

Your grace so amazing, taken and raised me

Captured my heart at the right time

Gave me a new start now I write rhymes

renew my mind on the daily, because

my flesh still fights like crazy

Again your grace amazes me,

it changes, rearranges me,

It makes me weep, knowing that

in it, my soul you’ll keep.

Broken

Dress Us Up

When Breathing Stops

The hospital smelled more sanitized than usual, a little more like disinfectant and a little less like sour milk and the yellow smell of old age.  After a couple hours I would get used to the odor and go back to school where the girls in my class would tell me I reeked of piss.  However this year it didn’t matter as much; our sixth grade teacher gave off the distinct scent of black coffee and body odor, overriding my stench.

Mom and I walked past the front desk.  It was pale orange with an olive countertop.  I greeted the receptionist, Maureen.  She was in her mid 50s and dyed her hair a deep red-brown to hide her age.  Her daughter lived in Philadelphia and sent Maureen a president bobble head every year.  She had collected twelve in all and when we came in she would let me play with them and tell me a little bit about each person.  Her favorite was William Taft.  She told me she liked men with girth and after that mom didn’t let me go by Maureen unless she was around.

Born With a Weight

“Born With a Weight” by American Fiction

https://dl-web.dropbox.com/get/04%20Born%20With%20a%20Weight.mp3?w=d55c9f9c

If you are interested in more music from American Fiction, please visit myspace.com/americanfictionband

I place my hand on this drift

this scene is what it is: acquainted.
i rest like old rusty coins at the bottom of that lake.
burrowed into the bottom of a mechanic’s jacket,
but that’s not who gave it to me.
it’s novel and fitting like our professor’s leather suitcase
but with the latch unbuckled and flapping as he walks.
i could lay on the back of the couch this afternoon,
feel the back vertebral column synchronize my spine
and be still.
yesterday, when i sat stroking the skeleton of a fan,
i remembered the pearl cufflink i found on the windowsill,
rare like an owl feather.
o keep us from the flash of the world.
unbend, unbend, and hinge;
this pleads raw and organic and unconcealed.
a lone bulb wrung from a power line,
shattered under the weight.
but the shards have a pulse.
they’re beating on the ground.