Speak Again

To you, my One-That-Could-Be-Helped,
I know your worth.  You've felt it yourself
When you wanted to feel God's love.
But it felt so light,
So like a dove.
You rejected God's endless love.
Perhaps, perhaps,
But I know not.
For twixt two foes I am now caught-
Keep my distance and never feel
Closure to a wound unsealed,
Or close the distance
And make new wounds
In me and in you, met far too soon.
Doubtless you will feel to mock
At one whose heart was once a rock,
But such will never be again.
I want to feel it all again.
I want to be alive again.
I want to know and see again
A cherished heart made whole, again.
I know that such can be again
If you would but believe again.
Take a breath, make red again
A heart that wants to beat again.
Take to my knees and pray, again,
That you and I will speak, again.

Adam Scott Campbell

Helped

Composing,
And supposing
That someone listening hears

One writer's deepest,
Most intimate fears,
Hoping that that someone,
Sensing one writer's
Most wretched tears,

Also comes to comprehend
The turning gears
Of his mind.  They have already
Started to unbind.
When shall he find
What he must needs find?

Composing a symphony
Of rhyming phrase,
Knowing some scoff,
And others perhaps raise
An eyebrow or two in silent praise...

Hoping 'spite pain to draw the gaze
Of someone to help him through this maze,
Instead he finds someone-that-could-help
With eyes overshadowed, glazed,
Leaving him dumbstruck, stunned, amazed.

What can be said, untwisted
By someone whose heart is thought misted-
Over by life unkind?
Yet here writer sits, typing words to touch
The pained, numbed heart
Of one-that-could-help.

May that
One-that-could-help
Be helped.

Adam Scott Campbell

Of Wars And Of Words

There are all kinds of wars. All varieties of battles, and a wide array
Of different fields on which to stage them.  Ofttimes these conflicts
Take place on the mental arena your intellect performs on, or in the
Spirit your body holds inside.  A parallel battle, all the while, is
Waged in the heart of someone you love.  Maybe you are aware of
Her or his battles.

There are so many makes and models of weaponry.  They are held
In your hand, your tongue and your every action.  Though you may
Have the best intentions, someone, many someones perhaps, will
Nonetheless be injured by what you do.  If you don't intend harm,
The wounds you deal may hurt far less or much more. Rest assured
That someone will get hurt.

There are times when you will be the one under attack.  Remember
That there are defensive options you are given.  Mental, physical,
Even spiritual defenses to set up to guard yourself when and where
You cannot do so.  You are human (I hope you are, since you are
Reading my blog.  If not, take comfort- I was not always certain
That I was human, either); you know or will learn that you will
Not be impervious to injury of one kind or another one-hundred
Percent of the time.

Defending yourself from harm is a desirable action.  It takes
Courage to stand up for yourself, courage to stop something
From happening when you know it shouldn't happen. Self-
Perpetuation is the avenue to possibility, the opening of
Option.  When you dare to move, you dare to progress,
Become, accomplish, overcome, and conquer.

Choosing not to defend yourself, particularly when you
Want to and are able to, takes a different kind of courage.
Like when you trade your survival to perpetuate the life
And wellness of another person.  Or when you don't
Defend out of love for your opponent.

If you find that you are being wronged, I have a little
Bit of a wish for you.  Be diplomatic in your response.
One result of getting even is that you put yourself on
The same level as your opponent (not an original idea,
I know).  A morsel of food for thought.  Should you
Not want to be better than your enemy?

You can be both defender and attacker.  This is a
Difficult state to be in.  It's easier to be attacked, it's
More necessary to defend when the battlefield is level,
Or when you find yourself on ground that's lower
Than that of those fighting you.  Find a mountain,
Climb it, and keep climbing.  The enemy will find
It more difficult to shoot arrows at you.

When- (not if. When) an action you or I take does
Harm to anyone, either of us are given options.  Do
You, do I cause harm because of our goals, or despite
Them?  If what we want is in direct opposition to what
We do, it is ourselves we attack, and we who defend.
If you feel this is you, understand that you are reading
The words of someone else at war.  I get you.

If this is not you, if you have never fought a battle with
Yourself, never won or lost a high stakes endeavor, I
Urge you- shake yourself awake.  Wars are fought
All round you, now, every moment.  I have taken so
Many down.  I have helped others up.  I do this with
My words.  They are Powerful.  So are yours.

How will you shape your words?
How will you use them?

Adam Scott Campbell

God's Angels

Upon the ground I lay it:
A mind harried and weak.
Briefest touch of Soul-Balm
Pained thoughts always will seek.

Next to the mind, a bloody heart
Still beating in its ire,
No matter how much truth it tells
Tis still counted a liar.

Next to the bloody, burning heart
I lay a body down.
Praying that, by Grace and Purity
It will somehow be found.

Last, yet most, a spirit laid over all,
Ever willing to take the fall.
Ever apt to feel such pain
For by it only will there be gain.

Mind, heart, body, spirit:
Side by side they lay.
Before them all a child
I once knew silently prays.

I see his hands clasped,
The wetness on his face,
He pleads, in my behalf,
For God's own daughter Grace.

While tis sweet to hear such words
Uttered by the young,
Would that they could be spoken
By my forked tongue.

What I am, I do not know.
I, hurting, on dirt now laid.
Yet if ever a prayer can reach Heaven
Twill be one this child prays.

If prayer transcends time and space,
And I believe it does,
Perhaps I can be saved
By this Me-That-Was.

Innocence will never return.
Purity can.
By the plea of Innocence,
Grace can write a new plan.

Now they come, wrap their arms
Around the child Me
By their power, and their charm,
They speak, and help him see:

By the path he'll tread,
He'll harm spirit, body, mind, and heart.
But by that same path he'll learn
The meaning of goodness,
The joy of new starts.

By his pain will come Empathy,
Another of God's daughters fair.
"By anguish comes the miracle.
By pain one learns to care.

Pain makes you more pure.
Above all else, let come what may,"
God's angels say, "But endure."

Adam Scott Campbell

Majesty In Rags

Sword in princess' hand, tear upon her cheek.
Both for love of one she loves- a sister feeling weak...

Such pain and neglect her sister suffers now.
Each blue-blooded noble makes haste to deeply bow...

Heart-traitor held at sword point.  He waits to tear her down.

Majesty in rags. A ruined wedding gown.
Failed attempt to share in love that never dies,
Ragged Majesty, scarred by would-be champion's lies...

Warrior-sister's sword, ready, holds traitor at bay,
At the threshold, three hundred yards away.

Nobles bow, powerless to heal sweet Majesty
Who already plans from her life to flee.
Stepping back from threshold,  Sharpened blade hid, no toy...
Armed Majesty in her bower... Noble, wise peasant boy,
Sneaking into royal sanctuary, knowing grief of heart,
Tells a queen her duty,  and grants her a new start.

Warrior-sister marches traitor by sharpest steel
Back before a queen, starting, again, to heal.
Two royals, a peasant boy, a traitor at life's end.
Hanging in the balance, on queen's choice all depends.
Guards rush in, swords aimed at both men.  Queen steps between them,
Knowing she has a champion, will not let them condemn.
Queen gives command.  Traitor taken away.
Peasant bid good welcome, and bidden to stay.
Princess gazes at peasant.  Peasant smiles, shy.
Story's further chapters glimpsed.
Limits as the sky.
May compassion,
May loyalty
May love-hope
Never die.

Adam Scott Campbell

Mortal Angel

Bruised and battered and shattered inside.
He said he felt good.
He knew that he lied.
While you waited, wanting him healed,
All of his pain was tied up and sealed.
No question you asked, no answer revealed
Would fix this:  You knew not what to wield.
He wished to speak of the hurt bound within
A heart so beat-up and scarred hard by sin.
But by that same scarring, doors were barred.
Who would wish a heart so marred?
Yet he ran, seeking an exit,
Pushing red muscle, hoping to flex it.
He could not bear to bruise anew
A shattered heart still beating for you.
When his need drove him to cry
Inside a bound heart refusing to die,
You reached all the way through.
You touched his heart.
Scars faded, whether
Wounds or words or bruises traded.
Pain made sweet.
You nursed, you aided.
Now heart wounds are whole
Scars faded.
Live, and love, and fill a new role.
This once-battered heart is better,
All the way through.
Living mortal angel, thank you.

Adam Scott Campbell