This was the place
Where the days all weighed
More than a day
And the hours bloomed
Like roses and thunder
The world was an orchard
No one had plundered
And the juice from the picking
Dripped down on our chins.

I come to these ruins now and again
Because when it’s silent and still
I hear us through time, Merry,
Working out our will and good pleasure.

There was no way to save the day,
To save those days, in the moment,
And no way now to measure
How profound the bloom and peal.

What is worth most?
The first rose to open,
Or the final blossom?

(Written outside the door.)

Thank you

For the best of times
The worst of them
For remembering
Who I might have been
If it hadn’t all been wasted.

I keep giving up in waves.
I’ve been fighting the quit,
But the reality of my stillbirth
And my culpability in it,
Is branded Lost Cause.

It’s humiliating to be exposed
On video tape
For all you have hated to be,
All you tried to escape
But could never defeat.

I don’t know why
It had to be a public spectacle
Why You told me time and again
Run back to the table
Under the nose of judgement

But I don’t care; just hold me.
I feel like there is no such action
As betrayal, because it requires trust
The way will always be grasping factions
And dangerous liaisons.

The dream of love is over,
Love of any kind,
But I know it’s Who You are-
I’ve been born blind.
I am incapable of love

For a million reasons
Only You can overcome.

I want to run,
But that’s just geography.

Through my years
I have sustained
Many acts of violence
The intense strain
By taking a knee
Absorbing the pain
Standing, taking step by step,
Until momentum changed
Memory and ache.

But this won’t stop hurting.
My children feel the weight
I watch them move differently
Unaware they now compensate
For the thing that changed all things.
The grief infiltrates
And I can’t mend what’s torn
I can’t take
Many more of these days

And nothing can make it better
If You don’t redeem it.

Shadows and Echoes.
People come and go.
Some see me; no one knows
I am my own ghost.

I wait for the kaleidoscope to spin
Pulling me from the place I’m in
Into the chaotic twirl of change again
But who I am already descends

Laid to rest in the most foreign land
My bones interred bear the brand
Will that mark, by some mysterious hand,
Tie me ever to this place I planned,

But could never understand?

I don’t want to leave;
I don’t want to stay.
I want to stop haunting,
To dissolve away

By some gentle breeze,
Into nothing.
Instead

I scream with coyotes
Barefoot I run with them.
I howl like the wind.
My soul is tethered;
I fear I’ll be trapped here when
The kaleidoscope spins

Roaming and wailing with no end.

I’m so grateful
For the incremental victories
That are concrete reminders
That You are with me,
But on the equal and opposite
Of each success
I stare into the void
Of grief and emptiness.

I’m done with calculations,
And I’m not blaming my husband again.
He gets life done
When I am crippled by my sin.
I can’t see a resolution
That doesn’t end in perpetual grief.
I can’t see a higher outcome
Than temporary relief.

Be the God of my wilderness.
Find a vantage point.

My children are all sick.
The house is a mess.
My marriage is comfortably empty.
My boss seemed upset.
I don’t speak the same language
As the ones who wear Your name.
I’ve been alone so long,
It’s all I know, how I must remain:

We sing songs of You
As the Rescuer, the Restorer,
And I am grateful You do.
I’m ashamed to ask, is there more, or…

Or do I take small bites of today’s
Daily Bread
And remember the real Bread of Life
Is best enjoyed after I’m dead?

It’s all grace either way
And I am grateful for today,

But I’ve fallen on hard times.

It used to be so loud.
I wanted terribly to believe
I could be truly loved
It’s a silent grieve

Now the dirt is laid
Over the casket.

I’ve never been clasped
Inside safe arms, where
I could press against a heart
That beat for my welfare.

No more arms, no surprises,
Just tending my brood
And saying goodbye.

You are a judge and advocate
For those who can’t find justice.
A provider for the widow,
A father to the fatherless-

Filling the gap
Men leave behind.

Is that why You have loved me
Intimately all my days?
Because You knew
It would be the only way

I could believe love exists.
Thank You
For not being broken.

It’s a different kind of fear.
When that which snarls and salivates
For your life, takes you gently in hand,
Speaks tenderly- Imitates
A safer species.

When in disarming tones,
Commending what may not be true,
Guile croons to damage,
Or even end you,
All inside a charming smile.

It’s a different fear, when underneath
Is the thing that screeches against the light.
He is just as trapped as I,
And that’s when biting creatures bite.

She apologized for a noise
I didn’t even hear.

My life has required certain skills,
Segments pieced like a patchwork quilt.
How long have I appeased those
Who require blood for spilt milk?

Have I accepted as necessary conditions
Excessive exactions?
Am I allowing gouging
In daily transactions?

I asked what damage her noise caused;
Was it sharp? Was it hard?
Did she swing it like an axe?
What harm did it cause?

She giggled like butterflies.

No harm No foul No apologies
For a noise.

The Viking growls
From under his cowl
His restless impatience to shatter
Knits his eyebrows in scowl
Inside and under his trained civility
Wafts the odor of something foul.

He walks with cudgel raised
Looking for any inch of loss to defend
Holding hostages in hostility
Bring him his mead, he grins
But the blood may flow
The moment boredom sets in.

No one invades, no one contends,
No one will ever take a stand
Against the drunken Viking
Weilding his weapon in hand.

Is there a noble warrior
Left alive in the land?

Or were they all consumed by cudgel or mead?