Poetry

Patrick's poetry chronicles a soul's journey through life's complexities, weaving experiences of love and humor while exploring man's solitary quest to find meaning. His verses ultimately lead home to the redemptive embrace of Jesus Christ, revealing the sacred destination that gives purpose to our wandering. Here you will find a selection of poems from his new book of poetry, "Letters to the Living".

Where the Light Still Finds Us

A Sonnet of Grief

It doesn’t shout. Grief never has to try.

It comes in quiet—soft as breathing wrong—

unthreads the edges of a lullaby,

then stays too long in places joy belonged.

You miss the way the gospel used to sound—

the way it met you warm and full of light.

Now Scripture echoes, hollow in the round,

and every prayer feels heavier at night.

But Christ still walks the garden of your ache.

He knows the turning shadows by their name.

And when the heart has bent enough to break,

He gathers every piece without a shame.

So rest. The dark is deep, but not the end.

He’s near enough to call you back again

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,
and saves the contrite of spirit.

Psalm 34:18

Candle of the Lord

after Proverbs 20:27

The soul holds flame—
quiet, steady—
lit by hands unseen.

It does not flicker in the dark.
It learns to wait,
to warm what cannot be reached by reason.

It moves beneath the surface of things—
where memory hides
and longing keeps its watch,
where old grief hums low
but grace hums lower still.

No part of us is passed over.
The flame enters the hollow chambers,
the tight-closed rooms,
the places named
too tender to disturb.

And there—
with patience,
with mercy drawn in quiet breath—
it searches.
Not to shame.
To illumine.
To reveal the shape
of what was always meant to live.

We are known like this:
by light that leans in close
and calls us home,
one slow beam at a time.

The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord,
searching all the inward parts of the heart.

Proverb 20:27

The Way Everlasting

after Psalm 139:23–24

Come search me, Lord—
in those places I look away.
The quiet corners I leave unnamed.

Trace the breath I never speak aloud.
Sift the marrow from my prayers.
See if a weight still clings to me.

What I have left nameless,
Your hand reveals all.
And as I continue toward darkness,
You show the better way.

You never force.
Your direction is kind.
And in that mercy,
I walk.

I follow behind You,
even when I lag.
And You never slow—
in those places I called safe.

Each step is known to You.
Each sorrow is accounted for.
And every path You offer
leads me home.

Search me, O God, and know my heart:

try me, and know my thoughts:

and see if there be any way of iniquity in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting.

Psalm 139:23-24

The Renewing

after Romans 12:2

This world makes shapes—
loud, demanding—
asking you to fold into them.

But you are clay
in gentler hands.
Not molded by pressure,
but by presence.

Each thought
brought forward to the light.
Each habit
held to the flame.
Each lie
unlearned in silence.

You do not resist by rage.
You are changed by renewal.
Transformed by the still,
inner turning
of the mind toward mercy.

The will of God
is not a riddle.
It is a road—
and it welcomes the bare soul.

Walk it slowly.
Let discernment grow
like fruit in the season
He alone chooses.

And as you walk,
what once conformed you
no longer fits.
You are becoming
what He always saw.

Do not be conformed to this world,

but be transformed by the renewing of your mind,

that you may prove what is the good and acceptable

and perfect will of God.

Romans 12:2

These three small poems follow the movement of a soul learning to listen.

First comes the voice, calling us awake. Then blessing finds us, quiet, undeserved.

Then, at last, we learn to walk in what we have heard.

It is the simple arc of faith:
We hear.
We receive.
We follow.

1. Of Hill and Voice

The hill at the edge of the crowd,

Beyond the murmurs, rises
In the hush of morning.

A man stands there, dust in his hair,
Speaking of lilies and sparrows,
Of salt, of light.

You know then it is not fear
That mends the torn places.
The voice calls. The air holds.

The hill stands at the edge of hope.
The wind carries the word among branches.
The promise shines, then falls like rain.

2. Of Blessing

The dawn at the bend of the road,
Beyond the last house, glows
In the hush before labor.

A voice on the wind says, Blessed are,
And the word moves among olive leaves,
Salt-heavy, light-bound.

You know then it is not the strong
Who inherit the fields of peace.
The meek rise. The promise breathes.

The dawn stands at the edge of mercy.
The wind carries the softest prayer.
The word settles, quiet as bread.

3. Of Saying and Hearing

The path at the edge of the sea,
Beyond the nets, glistens
In the first warmth of light.

You have heard it said, the voice begins,
And the air holds its breath,
Listening past the surf.

You know then it is not the old
Words that hold the dawn together.
The new Word steps near. The heart opens.

The path stands at the edge of turning.
The wind moves over water, over stone.
The Word walks, calling us home.