My mind is turning pages

sifting through the fragments

that remain of what was done

my fingers are caressing memories

my collection of moments

written into the book of time

my attention turns to all the pages that remain

how can I build on the foundation that was laid

how can I build something worth looking back on

how can I live a story worth writing down

somewhere in the room a clock is clicking

these questions echo in sync with the sound

How long have I spent

with those dollar store spiderwebs

serenaded by the fearsome yells of third rate actors

clothed in thrift store costumes

of politicians

how long have I watched

life go by the cracked windows

of the hell house I have locked myself in

to keep myself safe from a world without

the mission of heaven is just down the road

if I could only leave my precious fear

that religion of my own invention

and take a step of faith

toward my divine calling

but being haunted feels familiar

so here I sit

surrounded by mechanical cackling

and ghosts covered with sheets that badly need mending

who needs Christmas

when everyday can be Halloween

every time I hear the house creak

it reminds me that I am living the dream


shaking with the memories and tears


by the ones who said they would always love you


by the in crowd who boasted about how they shut you out

to shiver in the arms of January

embraced by the bitter season that they bragged would never end

but a victim of pride is only a prayer away from heaven

there is a higher law the one that says you are doomed to your hell

Grace would learn this when he adopted her as his own

grace was only an idea until she walked through the palace with her father

and realized what it was to be a daughter of the King

embraced by a love that heals the broken

At the edge of peace

am I willing to surrender my precious bitterness

at the brink of faith

am I ready to be cleansed by the holy water

on the precipice of hope

am I ready to let go and fall into the arms of my savior

I step forward and feel myself falling

and then untamed waves pull me under

like the wind of the Spirit

hurls thistles from a drought cursed plain

all that held me down is sinking

even as I am rising to the surface of the sea

tranquility washes over me

like the gentle warmth of the sun

and I know that this haven is where I need to be

Kelvin Bueckert

Kelvin Bueckert

Lives and writes on the plains of Manitoba, Canada…he is an actor, writer, and has also been known to peddle books on his website…