where the writers are



We who have sat behind doors

Waiting our turn

Bowing and leading others

To enter the stage

We dream on



We who give praise

Open our lips for the heavens to reign down favor,

Holding our breath


Finishing our sentences beneath our breath

Praying someone has heard our silent request



We who waited our turn

Put our lives on hold

While we made well for others to shine in our place

Breathed heavily

Longed for our moment

Shied away from our time

So that they could be more...

This time around



We who watched

Picked up our pens

And wrote words only God saw



We who stood at the front of the line

Waiting our turn

Living our dreams

Half time


This moment

This light

This time

Is for we


We who held passion

But lived passionless


We who hugged life

Only at night

Between drifts

Between sleep and dusk



We moved

Waiting patiently

Living favorably

Shining occasionally


This is for we

This is for the fear

The fear of wanting more than

For the fear of believing

For the fear of breathing out loud

The possibility

Of what could be


This our time

This moment

This light that shines

This energy that will not allow us to sit still

This will that cannot be pushed aside

This favor of blessing from the Creators own hand


This time belongs to we

Who've waited our turn

To live our lives out loud