Micah Park Biffle

 A Father's Dream    I could have quit and all would have been fine. No one would of said I was less than I was. Many told me I should quit, I should step back. That everything I am doing will only end up in flames. Maybe it could have, but it didn't.   For each day I rose before the sun and held my children in my arms. I would look to my wife as I woke. Her beautiful complexion, her gorgeous aurora floating about the room. I could hear her heart beating gently in the calmness of every morning.   And when I look to them, when I look to my children, my wife, I think of all the wonder they have given me. I think of everything my wife has sacrificed to keep our children smiling, laughing as I step out the door every morning taking the risk to change it all.   I think of the terrible times we have had, the times food was more scarce than fuel. I think about the times when we argued over the simplest things because we would rather ignore the dragon a...

My Field of Withering Roses   It has grown dim, everything is turning to shades of bland hues. Absence of color shrouds my thinking. My eyes no longer see the beauty that once cascaded my vision. I am alone, walking quietly through a field of withering roses.  The sky is white, the ground is dark. My own flesh is toned with color of stones. I feel heavy, restless as I feel myself sink to the desperate empty calls of my heart.  I thought by now, I would transcend past my stresses, my anxiety. I thought, I would be the one to bear the answers to the broken, to the bitter of my friends, my family.  But, I am still but a ghost in the halls of time. Ticking away slowly as I pride myself in my work but see no return for hope. Seeing no light to shine upon the freedom of my constant tension of mind. Straining my heart with burdens I am falling.  Tripping over the slow pace of change. I preach often of patience but my steps are becoming greatly demand...

Ascending Memories  We ascended with our feet upon the ground. Gathering up our thoughts like broken sticks, placing them in our bags to tell of later. We were silent as we climbed, hand in hand, silence at heart. Wearing red to signify the blood of our fallen hearts.  Our eyes reflected of the dark, as the rain poured with misery as we coated our hearts black. Ivory keys of woeful tunes played as we tried to piece ourselves together. We ascended higher and higher, but the terrain only became worse.  Vines bared thorns as roses of translucent petals hung like fingers of relaxed limbs. A few times our flesh came torn by the prick of thorns. The roses took to our blood, and what was once translucent became red.  Once our altitude was beyond the view of earth, the clouds became thick. Dense like the waters of the ocean. The beat of our blackened hearts grew louder through the density of these dreary clouds. We clasped our hands together, as not to lose one ...

To Those With Depression To those that are depressed, I bring you these words and hope they fill the belly of your soul and nourish your heart, Today, may be tougher than the former or maybe not. Maybe, today is like any other day, you struggling  to remove yourself from your bed is but a wishful feat and nothing more. As you are coiled in the monotony of sadness that seeps from you like foul breath; from a desperate evening of melancholy. Maybe, the mere action to place a smile upon your face may feel like lifting the world from your chest. I know these feelings well, I know them as well as I know the color of my eyes. I know when even a sunrise is no more joyful than a slaved day at work. When the world is pressing you into the unimaginable sinking of despair. Where the air is thin but anxious thoughts a rabid. Where colors fade and all you see is grey and the whispers of death sound so sweet. Maybe you have fallen much further than I, where the act of infliction'...