Is he a MOUNTAIN like Whitney or Everest, rising strong and tall,
high above the landscape, watching and warning of dangers?
I think yes.
Is he an OCEAN like Atlantic, Indian, or Pacific, whose waves
keep coming to the shores ever so consistently and receding,
only to return again?
I think yes.
I also think that he is like a FAITHFUL RIVER, flowing with force
and favor with life and energy for all of us.
I also see him like a DAM who refuses to break: and he's so
well constructed to release faith, hope, and love to all those
down stream.
He's like a WALL of DEFENSE, shielding and protecting from
any and all enemies.
He's a WARRIOR, pulling down strongholds with the prayer
weapons of his warfare.
He's a LANDMARK, displaying the value of things
unchangeable and unmovable.
And last but not last, he's a GENTLE STREAM, flowing
with waters so divinely pure and crystal clear.
FIND HOME
For those wondering souls who’s lost their way,
who has even forgotten their name,
For those of you, who lost their faith,
because of more than your fair share of pain.
A life of roses among the thorns,
more than petals paving the way,
More than joys, your sorrows worn,
a soul with holes like soles of shoes each day.
Would that I could have saved you,
From the cruelties your mind and heart endured,
Would could I have even prevented,
What they said was for you, no cure.
Would that I could have pointed to signs,
When your obscured vision had gone,
But the lady has now laid down the path,
for her lost children to find their way home.
For those who had gone in another direction
although Jesus said, “I am the Way”
No other Truth, no other Light there be,
it was a lie that led you astray.
Come now my children, like a mother hen,
shielding her chicks from the storms,
The grace of Christ to gather you,
in His loving protective arms.
At Christ’s return to collect His bride,
And soon we’ll be rapturously gone,
But there will still remain a narrow way
a martyr’s path in red showing the way home.
At the edge of evening,
on a late-summer night,
the garden is pretending
it will last forever.
Lilies lift their pale trumpets
through the violet hush;
roses crowd around
the knees of two girls in white.
They bend over
their paper-moon lanterns,
shielding the wicks,
watching them flicker gold.
Do you remember those days
when life was so simple,
when dreams seemed real,
our faces aglow in the light?
How night arrives
as it always does,
quietly, leaf by leaf,
darkening the garden around us.
Still, the lanterns remain—
each one a little kept summer,
each one saying
not nothing will be lost,
but carry this:
there is enough light
for the next remembered step—
two small shadows
following the lanterns
home.
I brush my pen to hone,
Knowing the time I spent for you would never be alone.
For him I cherish, not the bond we embellish,
Where my sin once found it sweet,
Let my poem heal for you to repeat.
Suffering the wrath of my walls,
Shielding me in your arms,
Holding me tight as you poured out your soul,
Shrinking the sand that slips through your palms.
Avoiding the love that you once found,
Thankful for this day as time goes by,
Waving to the love I lost, we say our goodbyes.
Nothing left to change, no excuses to turn the page.
Can't you see the vibrant reds decorate the horizon?
The leaves crumble, but the trunk remains stuck in position
The two birds swoop by, they're just like you and I
Floating to the canopy to gather materials to nest
But once they arrive, the tree's roots have gone dry
Nothing for the young lovers with future plans
Once they set off, the tree cackles quietly
It fools the ones who need it the most
And for those who were born with gold in their palms?
They get the most of the leaves and the shielding bark
But the poisoned sap left afterwards tricks each con artist
Sweet like maple syrup, it churns the gut and stops the heart
For every day of mockery was like a yellow sign wielding caution
Even the plants which are twisted like chain link
Had motives and viewpoints, while reserved and cunning...
The silver sky gently mists,
shrouding trees, emerald dark,
with echoes of mystery.
Soft, beautiful and cold is the melody
the wind blows, far away
through branch and lilting bough.
All is quiet, with the deep-breathing silence
of cool, evening peace.
The air, fresh and cold, enveloping light with grey;
carrying with it the harmony of
crickets and birds. Keeping the ancient
twilight tryst they sing a little warmth amidst
the charcoal world, and a gust in the shielding leaves
speaks in barely a whisper:
beckoning…
While I lay, still as silence –
Fingers pressed upon the chilled glass,
the wind noiselessly billowing
the soft, pale curtains.
I reach for a cold, sad,
beautiful world -
until the rain begins to fall.
Alone, breathing slow and deep,
I smile.
*ENABLE
Have I ever called you lately;
Have I since initiation called you baby;
In my silents, ever so quiet
May I enable
I am available
In an act of beginning something
I’m formally enquiring
Your hand, your body, soul and mind
You’re fine, just all mine
Accept this your role in God state of being
We’re being
Subside, let’s ride provide
The authority means opportunity
Make it possible, practical agree
Come away acknowledge savor me
Give your heart, mind, spirit, body to behold
Forward, forth with, turn on
The choice, voiced thought process,
You know you want this
May I enable, I am available
In an act of beginning something
I’m formally enquiring
Your hand, your body, soul and mind
You’re fine, just all mine
You’re not a story, nor fable
You’re a special treasure, allow me our pleasure
Let me support you
Shielding you from
Consequences of you negate actions
Make it easy to continue
I empower you allow me too
Enable you
6/15/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
Upon the winds affirmation
The leaves high above the ground shook,
Content with overlooking a young man’s journey.
Through the woods he walked,
Directionless in meditation.
While he walked the woods opened to reveal his internal contemplation,
And he followed the path that beckoned his conscience.
Deep into the depths of the earth he explored,
Circle through circle,
He discovered the inescapable sin upon which his life sat.
Alas he ventured as far as he could,
And upon seeking escape the guard shielding his chains proclaimed:
“Your life is drawn to my dominion,
sin and virtue share a weight,
Your liberation is achieved through weightlessness,
Though, you are bound to the shortsightedness of desire.”
The exposed Sierran batholith
bares itself in all directions.
Treeless, lifeless, it recalls
a primordial earth
and time before meaning.
I hike upon its surface
to find purpose –
a midlife reckoning.
The granite is smooth
and direction difficult.
Cairns appear occasionally,
though many dissolve
into exfoliating granite.
Most find trees and rivers
to be a warmer womb
and source for solace.
But the clutter
of Nature obscures.
Not its presence but
its absence is where
I find myself.
Absence is the granite
that creates presence,
and casts the shadows
shielding us from
the scorching Sierran sun.
Lambent greenery adorns its play
Like a line- up of forest's denizens ,
Trees were the masters, long arms
In majestic swings, their fruits I
Have tasted through each cycle's trail.
Although each harvest was a feast
My climb into branches, touch of leaves
Left me with a sense of sadness,
My path empty shielding my pain
Tree's gifts I had taken, I never given.
In the hush of uncertain days,
I breathe with a calm I cannot claim for myself.
Walls stand firm, unseen hands guiding,
Shielding hearts from the tremors beyond our doors.
Each morning, the sun rises, unafraid,
And I, too, rise, carrying gratitude
For the quiet guardians of life and peace,
For the safety that feels like a soft embrace.
Even when the world hums with tension,
I find solace in small certainties
The laughter echoing through our rooms,
The steady heartbeat beside me,
The unseen shields that hold us whole.
I bow my thanks to every thread of protection,
Every gentle force unseen,
That keeps fear at bay
And let the heart rest,
Even for a moment, in safety.
If mothers had their way
if they always held sway
The world would be a duller place
little advancement for the human race
Imagine the mother of brave Admiral Peary
shielding her precious charge from
Arctic perils, to her so overwhelmingly scary
Or Yuri Gagarin's mom, locking him in his room
never in space 'round the earth three times to zoom
Ah, you say, Prince Charles played polo easy and free
Ha! -- probably drugged Queen E's daily tea ...
Then again, if they always had their way, those mothers
~ their sons would never go to war killing each other
The soft sun smiling
down upon my feather-light skin
The trees listening
to every crunch of leaves
The sunflowers turning
To see our pass by
The rocks shielding
And guarding our hideout
The moment remembers
How we once were;
Children
The trees bent their boughs over the road
shielding the drivers’ eyes
From omens unwelcome in hellish skies
through which blood-red entrails flowed
I'm thinking about pumpkin seeds today.
How they survive the deep-deep freeze.
I think about them treading cautiously.
Beneath the pond's pretty white veil of death.
Is it endless suffering waiting for the first fleck of spring?
I really should be thinking of the homeless instead.
Handing out warm blankets, a warm gaze, a warm drink.
Shielding them from God's blue fingertips.
But instead, I can think only of pumpkin seeds.
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