soul

Your arms around me
are curling, splashing ocean waves of joy,
ever shadowed by the dark clouds
that I'm sad to call "goodbye."

Remembered waves of your embrace
wash over me at night.
I wait for the sweet someday
when you will be always, only mine.

When I will rest safe in your arms
and never fear again.
When I will give myself to you
more honest than the pen in my hand.

The deep, black ink of my feeling
will spill at once
into your clear blue love,
and not pollute it at all.

Your arms around me
are like a promise-
a direct link
to your eternal soul.

thanksgiving

If I were a pumpkin,
would you pick me from the patch?
Would you scoop out my seeds,
carve a smile onto my face,
and fill me up with light?
Would I sit with you on the front porch
every night?
If that’s where I grew old,
I wouldn’t mind.

If I were a pumpkin,
would you bake me into a pie?
Would you mix me up with cinnamon,
place me gently in the oven,
and watch me rise?
Would you top me with the whipped cream
of your delight?
If that’s what you had in mind,
it would be alright.

If I were a person
and not a pumpkin,
would you choose me just the same-
if I were not always sweet and smiling,
and took much longer to decay?
By grace, in the wonders of the night
and the long labor of the day,
would we join an eternal Thanksgiving
and daily give ourselves away?

september

September stands shyly

in the doorway of a school.
She sings in her head

"Give me something to aspire to-

Some beautiful change,

some standing on truth,

some person to show me around-"

she is new.

September steps into

a classroom of kind souls,

who hang peace like paintings

on every wall.

A hopeful stranger

standing on the edge of Fall-

She aspires to be like them,

candles all.

sunrise

I meet you the moment 

I open the curtains

and am surprised by the soft glow

of a lovely sunrise.

You greet me with warm colors

and gentle light-

a new, sweet hello each time

we've been parted by night.

Your smile illuminates the edges of clouds,

then slowly, all the world around,

offering every day an invitation

to be beautiful again.

I want to believe

that you really, truly could love me.

I want to know

your mercies, new each morning.

Your perfect peace

that passes understanding,

your faithfulness

that persistently keeps rising.

You know my need for sleep

and let me go into the dark,

if only so that when I wake

I may savor your light more.

I savor your light new

each precious time that I look through

the curtains and see your face,

knowing I only see by grace.

You call me from the shadows

and take away my grave clothes.

You speak with me

and draw me through the window

To the place where you are,

the embrace of your care.

I meet with you again

in the meadow of prayer.

seen

I’m pounding on the glass of my eyes,
waiting for you to reply
to a question I can’t verbalize,
to open the door
and find me sitting here outside,
knocking with silent hands,
spilling over with sighs.

I’m pounding on the glass of my brain,
searching for an answer
to the problem of pain,
for strength to move,
for words to speak-
knocking at the door of your love,
longing to be seen.

chickpeas

Let the chickpeas soak
for about one hour.
Spend some extra time
in the warm shower.

Watch them rise in the bowl
like bread in the oven
Watch yourself sink deeper
into the coffin.

Cook the bloated beans
in a bubbling pot.
Feel your soul float away
like steam from something hot.

Add salt and garlic-
a lemon freshly squeezed.
Wring your heart
until the parasite is pleased.

Grind it into a paste,
a creamy spread.
Dive into the taste
like pita bread.

Blend the orbs
of your confusion
into the corpse
of a conclusion.

Stir your vain
abstractions
into some simple,
tangible action.

anxiety

You are an ocean
I cannot keep from crashing
against the shore.
Thoughts pour endlessly
onto the sand,
rising, retreating, repeating
their attack on the ground.
How many castles
have you swallowed up?
I stand on the beach
with a bucket and a shovel,
trying to make something beautiful-
to make sense of the destruction
that’s become inevitable.
I cannot stop the pull of the moon.
I cannot stop you from taking everything
and knocking me down.
I cannot say “Peace, be still,”
and make the waves obey
I am powerless to part the sea
or break my bondage to decay.
Creation groans,
a bush thick with thorns.
I am pricked by your ocean,
continually warned
not to build my house
upon the sand-
on Christ the solid rock
I stand!

the cat

The cat has got my tongue again,
curled up on the soft red couch
of my mouth
like a close friend.
I bring food and water
for him to lap up
before any can reach
my own parched throat.
He stretches out to sleep
as I slowly starve for love,
staring blankly at a screen-
I could call you but I don’t.

The cat has got my tongue again
and I cannot complain.
I’ve built myself into a shelter
for animals in pain.
They wander in and out
and I try my best at healing.
To be a safer place
I’ve learned to mute
 my inward screaming.
Will you stay awhile?
My doors are open
whenever you need me,
but I’ll understand if afterwards
you have more important places to be.

the edge

The future is a dense, untraveled forest.
I imagine it full of beautiful creatures
and dangerous hunters.
Friendly ferns and flowers grow
alongside poisonous, shadowy foes.
I stand fearful at the edge,
holding only the misty map
of my dreams,
and a heavy string bag
filled with questions
and shards of faith.
Will you come with me
into the forest,
or will I take the journey alone?
Will you still love me
in the great wilderness
of the unknown?
I stand fearful at the edge
of the woods-
frozen at the edge of life,
searching for light
and God.