Darkness, and then eyes open Inhale deep Eyes close, exhale Inspiration – a curious thing – Prolonging life; Creating space and time for what will happen Before, between, and after each breath. Wondrous imagination, Before the day even begins Breathe in – Breathe out Seeing the dew drops on the grass The dusky purples and…
Entrapped by cold concrete, beauty unnoticed between back-to-school walkers, dog sniffers, after dinner strollers. Protected by a crack, fending off frost, courageous late bloomer. Could we be like you? Shining our summer colors when least expected? Hiding our seeds in safe places? Creating while waiting on winter to wane? Awakened by April snows – showing…
Dear Readers, William Wordsworth once said, “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.” Even though spring is bursting with new life, evoking powerful feelings, it has a tranquility about it as well. Doesn’t spring just inspire poetry in your heart? Songs, poems, spoken word pieces….
There’s a pile in my closet: a skirt too small, a shirt too stained, pants too worn. They wait, expectantly, for a transformation, for deft scissors and clever thread, a re-imagination of grace. But I hang in the moment between the death of the old and the…
That day I turned around, and life had flown… Whilst chasing dreams and children; Both stumbling and soaring in the search for holy significance. Compassionately rescued from despair; Gifted with a grace that accepts and extends; Encouraged and loved. Discovering serenity in silence, and strength in surrender. Filled, then poured out. Heart broken, then mended….
the white-haired Mexican plum tree is a sign for good brave blue flower in the stiff wind is a sign for good children playing unselfconsciously is a sign for good spirit taking the trees by their tops and shaking them is a sign for good you have to hang on to your signs while…
For Ellis Kennedy, 4 years old I promised him yesterday That the water would hold him up, But he curled inward and snatched For my hands underneath him And dropped from the surface, Instantly heavy. I coaxed him to ear-depth And we blew bubbles, Eyes on each other. There would be no proof Unless he…
reflecting on the woman with the issue of blood from Matthew 9 You do not need to think your way to faith fierce enough to frighten fragility into a footnote. You do not need to lace your lips with lustrous prayers or pound your chest in penance for the puzzle of your pain. You do…
The kiss on the cheek planted swift, turns to thorny scratch, burns long and thin, drips red on black dirt. Fragile petals live a breath away, a thin vein from death. Roses keep distant, far from drawn swords ready to impale petal-skin. Repent and attempt to pluck stems of delicate short-lived beauty, for arrangements in…
At 3:00 am, sleep skitters across the room, a shy mouse, out of reach. I lie in the dark and hear more of them in the walls, the ceiling: old decisions, choices long past, regrets, sorrows, fears, yellow-toothed and dirty, chewing wires. At this rate lights will flicker, come winter. And so I call You,…
His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace. Ephesians 2:15 Two broken entities. Colors shouting back and forth to each other: You are one. I am the other. He has already made us One. He has broken down the wall of partition. He made peace out…
A winter tomb. A cavern womb. A lodge for pain. Grief branches into limbs and sinew and marrow. Ache lingers there. Warm brown arms envelope this tomb. Breath buries into her bosom. “Release that pain!” Her prayer over me unfurls its rooted hold. Tendrils of freedom now seed that womb. There is room for Spring….
The call came in the middle of a busy night as we worked on a floppy baby with high fever, a croupy toddler whose breathing squeezed and squeaked, a pale adolescent transfusing due to leukemia bleeding. It was an anencephalic baby just born, unexpected, unwanted in a hospital across town, and she needed a place…
“Thank you, Jesus!” she cried, her husband gripping her hands as she bore down with one last great shudder, pushing their third child, their first daughter, into my lap. Her prayer blessed this routine labor, which spilled forth in blood and amnion on my feet. At that moment, I murmured by own prayer of gratitude:…