Love, War, and Soul was an accident.
I never expected to write a collection of poems around a specific theme, and certainly not a book. But, as the old saying goes, sometimes life surprises you. Here’s the story.
I sat on my back porch in an old rocking chair staring at the sunset. It was cold. January in the mountains can be callous. The rocking chair was an old friend. Its paint started chipping months before as the elements took their toll on my companion. That evening the sunset’s colors captivated me, yet they were as burdensome as beautiful. As I stared into the sunset, I felt like I stared into my soul to watch light drift away. “Depressed” was an understatement.
The wounds of war caught up to me.
Six months before that evening, a significant moment occurred and everything fell apart. Everything. One minute changed the trajectory of my life. Later I realized tragedy is helpful in many ways, not least of which is that it revealed true friends. They called, visited, texted, and emailed. Their intentions were generous, but I still felt like a lost soul wandering in a land of shadows. It’s no surprise that clergy fight depression at double the rate of the national average.
Remember, everyone fights an unseen battle, we should be kind.
As I stared into the setting sun from my old rocking chair and I realized something, I was dead. Depression, anger, shame, and a bankrupt spirituality killed what little parts of my soul combat left. I wanted to die since life no longer seemed worth it.
The only thing I knew to do was pray. I’m an Episcopal priest, so I naturally admire the poetic language in our Book of Common Prayer. However, that night I didn’t pray an organized prayer; I prayed a prayer that a Pentecostal minister taught me a decade and a half before that evening. I said, “Well, God, here I am.”
If prayer comes from the heart, it’s beautiful.
Nothing happened, so I thought. The next morning I accidentally found a collection of poems I wrote in Afghanistan. Often times accidents aren’t accidents. That’s when I accidentally started composing poetry again.
Love, War, and Soul is the path I walked to find hope again.
The result of that accident is the book, Love, War, and Soul. The book is a journey through the struggles of war, the difficulties of homecoming, and restoring the soul. But it doesn’t stop there. It tells stories of love, chiefly the delicacy and eroticism of love.
I’ve noticed that trauma quickly closes the heart. Love is the first victim of a traumatized soul. I’ve seen the countenance of countless people change as love poured out of their eyes.
The death of love is not an experience restricted to combat veterans.
Everyone, in their own way, lives through the difficulty of lost love and a lost soul. That’s why Love is the first section of the book. The secret to peace of mind and soul is intentionally applied love to portions and pieces of our lives. If our hearts allow a tiny crack in our guardedness, then light can enter. When we’re courageous enough to admit that we need love, everything
To be clear, we need not go to war to experience trauma and post-traumatic stress. Love, War, and Soul can speak to everyone since we all have scars. It takes bravery to confront our traumas; they are usually terrifying. That’s why I wrote poems of darkness.
The restful soul is not anxious.
If we lean into love, face our demons and our “wars,” and allow God to help the soul grow, it transforms us into, as St. Paul said, “A new creature.”
If you want to give my other poetry a read, it’s here. Love, War, and Soul is available on Amazon.