Cross on Calvary

by Lawrence Rahn

Painting


Broken Life, the Restoration

by Scott Sjostrand

Prose


Hurry Up and Wait

by Carl Palmer

Poem


Expiration

by Lynn Norton

Poem


A Simple Act

by Nila Bartley

Poem


An Abundant Life

by Nila Bartley

Array


Big Boys Do Cry

By Dan Yates, Army

Writing Type: Array

By Dan Yates
-Blue Springs, MO

The sky is dark and cloudy, transforming into gray;
it has been too long since we've had a rainy day.
I sit beside the window, stare out into the street,
feeling like I'm half a man whose life is incomplete.
Then I see a raindrop, a second and a third;
I make my way to the door without a single word.
Down the street I go; inside I feel relief,
knowing I can go outside, not disguise my grief.

Weeks have come and gone since my true love said good-bye;
I miss the gentleness of her touch, the twinkle in her eye.
Every time I think of her, tears run down my face,
but outside in the rain, its drops will smear their trace.
Years ago I heard it said that big boys just don't cry;
to this day I regret I never questioned why.
This pain that overwhelms me consumes my broken heart;
the heart that she once filled has been blown apart.

A car drives by, honks its horn, a friendly wave is given,
as if to say, "It's good to see you back among the living."
I wave back, fake a smile, I feel so all alone
as I walk on in the rain, my personal cry zone.
I walk without a purpose; it must have been an hour
when I realize where I'm at, by the cross adorned with flowers.
I lift my tear-stained face, allow my eyes to roam
across the skid-marked street where my soul mate did go home.

I stand and gaze from curb to curb, grateful for the rain
and the mask it provides to hide my heartfelt pain.
My thoughts turn toward the heavens; again I question, "Why?"
Someone somewhere long ago said, "Big boys just don't cry."
I turn around, head for home, each day is now a chore,
knowing she won't be there to meet me at the door.
As I walk I'm grateful for the periodic rain
that washes tears from my cheek that I cannot contain.

I think about that statement, burned deep within my mind.
Was it said just for me or apply to all mankind?
I turn the knob, step inside, decide that it's a lie
since there comes a time in all men's lives
  when big boys have to cry.

Cross on Calvary

by Lawrence Rahn

Painting


1692 Salem

by Larry Connelly

Poem


Mother Russia

by Scott Sjostrand

Poem


The Best of Intentions

by Tony Craidon

Prose


In Memory of

by Tanya Whitney

Poem


Expiration

by Lynn Norton

Poem