Author: Chris P.

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OUT

Out

so that I can say 

my name 

with pride

Out

and standing before you

with my true self revealed

Out

following the inspiration 

of those who have 

daringly gone before me

and claimed their identity

despite the taunts

you tossed their way…

who didn’t let the fear

of your hate

block their way 

Out

 and here I am before you

inspired by my own courage

and loving me enough 

to live deliberately

Out

no longer hiding

who I am

and now claiming 

all parts of my identity

loud and free

and choosing 

to love the whole of me

Out

 and finally seeing

the beauty of my life…

Out of breath

from chasing dreams

Out of time 

for worrying 

about what your opinion means

Out of tears

from crying 

over your judgments 

and your fears

Out of patience

waiting for you

to understand 

love and truth

I am out

I am whole

I am loved

I am worthy

I AM OUT

–Chris Pepple © 2022

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Fruits of My Labor

Fruits of My Labor

I remember the first time

I baptized my soul

with the juice from 

the freshly picked blackberry 

that covered my tongue 

when my teeth broke 

through its flesh

and pulled the druplets

away from the whole…

I followed the new awareness

of the delight of the fruit before me

with the sweetness of a plum 

grown on my own land

against all odds as I 

learned to nurture the soil

and tame the tangle of weeds

that tried to devour my progress

and frustrate my soul 

as I worked to bring life

to what was buried beneath 

an almost unforgiving neglect 

of what should have been 

cherished as home 

and could still be 

the holder of hope,

and I remembered the witness

of those who taught me

to survive and to love

the feel of dirt moving 

through my hands

as I worked to understand

what I would devour

and what would try 

to devour me…

—Chris Pepple ©2022

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The Dance of the Young Spirits

The Dance of the Young Spirits

I sat outside and pondered

all the lives lost and the grief

of all who are left behind

and I listened to the songs of the birds

floating from tree limbs nearby—

Mother Earth inhales my worries and fears

and carries them on dandelion seeds

that will become the hope for new life 

tomorrow—but for today

She exhales the very winds that

touch my soul on these grief-filled days

when sorrow lays heavy in my heart,

but as daybreak nears, I glimpse

a teacher’s smile and outstretched hand

calling to students who are rising

from the wounds they should never

have had to experience, but now

I see their spirits rise among us

and dance before us with a beauty

that only the forever healed can show

and they encircle us and call us forth

to be the ones to join them in

this dance of the spirits

and to sing their names as we move

free from their dance and as we

face the sunrise without them

and decide how we will walk

into the future with the promise

we whispered to them that

no more would have to join their dance

before their time and no more

names would be written into the heart

of Mother Earth who grieves all who fall

into her arms by the hands of another…

Can you see them rising into the morning

and saying their own names as they

move into their forever without

finishing out their todays…

I hear their names and promise

I heard their pleas…

—Chris Pepple ©2022

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Losing our country one child at a time..

Losing Our Nation One Child at a Time

America, our wounded land,

where children’s blood runs free

when shooters take their lives away

hiding behind guns so cowardly

America, our wounded land, 

where store clerks and teachers bravely

walk in each day as front-line warriors

while others declare guns make them free

America, our wounded land, 

God shed God’s tears for thee

and weeps for the good 

that is becoming harder to see

America, our wounded land, 

where voices are raised for change immediately

and wise ones know more tears will come

because America is losing her dignity

America, our wounded land, 

where whiners declare their rights selfishly

but the Black and the gay and the “other than me”

are targets for hate and can no longer be free

America, our wounded land, 

I truly grieve for thee…

—Chris Pepple ©2022

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To the Women

To the Women

To all the women

in every region of the world,

in every country,

in every city and small town,

I hold you in my thoughts today

and celebrate your identity

and stand with you

in a sisterhood

that knows no bounds…

To the Ukrainian women

holding children and pets

in underground bunkers

and to your women

fighting on the frontlines of war,

I honor you…

To the Russian women

protesting and begging

for an unjust war to end

and who long to see

your sons back home,

I honor you…

To the Polish women

offering homes and hope

and who leave supplies

within reach

and who rock babies

that are not yours

so that another mother

can rest and breathe,

I honor you…

To women who are transgender

and who long to be recognized

and must fight for your rights

and who lose those close to you

because they choose to walk away,

but who build chosen families anyway,

I honor you…

To women who have survived

violence in your homes

and fled from abuse from those

who were supposed to love you,

and to the women still

trapped in unsafe homes,

I honor you…

To the Black women fighting racism

and raising sons and daughters

in this broken world

where people judge you

by the color of your skin,

I honor you…

To the women around the world

in poverty who struggle every day

to find food and shelter,

clean water and clean clothes

and who carry worry with you,

I honor you…

To refugees seeking hope

and who crave safety

and who walk through the unknown

to recreate what is known,

I honor you…

To the Mama Bears

creating safe spaces for your children,

who know that love is love

and who know that all people

regardless of gender or sexual identity

are worthy, 

who build communities for nonbinary, transgender, 

lesbian, gay, bisexual, questioning family members

and who extend your love to others, 

I honor you… 

To all women who take a stand

for what is right and just,

who offer love and hope,

who mentor and guide,

who reach out and who teach,

to the women who climb ladders

and help others climb with you,

who give back

and bring change

and offer hope

and hugs and love,

who hold hands

and touch hearts,

I honor you…

I celebrate our

diverse faiths

and races

and faces,

I celebrate

our dreams

and our successes,

I see our struggles,

I honor our journeys,

I honor you.

–Chris Pepple ©2022

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A Poem: Anyway

Anyway

When I felt broken

and invisible and was dismayed, 

you reached out anyway. 

I have no words to ever repay, 

but I will say thank you

to the one who loved me anyway…

the one who saw me through,

and believed in me

and believed me

and saw me

and reached out your hand

and held on

and embodied grace and love

and spoke louder than the pain

and refused to fear my scars

and refused to chatter away

with the gossipers erasing truth

and constructing tales that fit

their life’s narrative rather than mine

Thank you…

to the one who loved me anyway.

When we feel broken,

love anyway.

–Chris Pepple ©2022

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Worthy

Worthy

To the unseen trailblazers

who make their way

through uncharted territory

to break chains of abuse

that others claimed to never see,

who walk alone and hungry,

tired and broken at times,

you are worthy and courageous

and I see you

and I know your pain

of being shamed

when sharing truth,

of being outcast

and denied seats at tables

because you are blamed

and named and called untamed

and unworthy to be in the presence

of those who deem themselves better

and use their judgment as an excuse

to leave you alone and hungry and hurting

as you carry your children on your shoulders

to save them from the hate of the one

who wants you defeated and controlled,

but you rose up and spoke your “no”

and cleared a trail out of the horrors

of the life others said you deserved.

And by your strength,

a path has been cleared

that others can now see,

and a new hope

has risen in the souls

of those forgotten

in a world

that rests in comfort.

You are worthy,

wounded warrior

whose scars remind you

never to turn back.

One step more,

one step more,

one step more.

Chains are breaking.

Hope is rising.

One step more.

–Chris Pepple. ©2022

http://www.chrispepple.com