Tag Archives: Poetry

I Can’t

My whispers collect here.
Have I been in the cold
Wandering all these years?
Hope is the old man
Singing through his tears
To the child in my soul

I can’t, but I know
God can.

Caught between the crashing waves
My desires wash out to sea
Slipped between fingers that could not save
I drop to my knees in sand.
At least the child was brave;
What is left to make of me?

I can’t, but I believe
God can.

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On the Inequality of Passings

Tender, timid, untouched petals
huddled side by side
Fearful of the unfurl
Or falling under stride

Growing stronger silently
under the sun’s gentle hand
Braving a peek, a stretching forth:
Petals trust before they expand.

A moment of gray
tents the sky, west to east,
A tiny moment alone
with an unknown beast:

The wind stampedes
Pounding his chest
Grabbing the throat
Of the flower at rest

“Bloom!” he thunders, “Bloom now!
Your bloom creates your space!”
Shaking her petals open
to expose her childish face

Endlessly the wind chides
To bloom a different way
So she stretches back and forth
Bending against the sway

Lost and fallen petals
blown apart, out of vision,
crushed spaces and voices-
“Why?” she asks the wind

and he replies,
“The fault here lies
entirely on your stem.”


Exuberant Agony

I sing to You
Though sweat may roll across my brow
Pain dancing along me in waves
No cure for now
But I have already been saved
In my helplessness, and in my helplessness
You’ll see me through

And what is a little turmoil against eternity?

I sing to You
In withered state,
Onlookers guessing at my loss
Perhaps a well-earned fate
But I have always thrown this on the cross
Regardless of who may accuse;

Even when I accuse, You defend with authority.

I sing to You
Not to appease, nor to procure
Some relief or resolution
But because Your worth is sure,
Incapable of any iota of diminution.
How unworthy am I to be pursued,

Yet You overtook me with Your grace.

Even if these were my last breaths
You are worthy of every song I have left
And eternally more.


Works to Grace

Illness lands fast
Successive blows like boxers’ gloves
Looking for the last
Unconquered territory
But the true damage is past:

I’m steady now.

I kept spinning twirls
For my last sensei
Fearful and unfurled
In the murky depths
But it’s a solid world:

I’m standing planted

I’m grateful for these bouts
Pain and exhaustion wracking me
Weakening me, starving my doubts,
Stripping my abilities,
Until I am left without:

Sore, but light on my feet.

My fragile shell breaks down
Unknown, in silence and seclusion,
Draining away the ounce
In which the multitude imbibes,
And in their drunkenness, drowns:

That space in front of our hands.

Even so, I caused neither illness, nor ground,
Reduced instead to essential being
The innate truth of His strength resounds
Here, in my broken uselessness,

My eternal worth is found.


Praises Bloom

Soft morning, the gentle rain
Plucks the earth
As falling breathy notes
Harmonizing rebirth

Sighing, soothing melodies
Drenching the earth in song
Yielding to the sonata of sun:
Warm, vibrant, strong

And the music calls forth life
Bursting choirs of green
Accompaniments of blooms
Singing to the known and unseen

Maestro of song.


Something Else, I Think

I forgot to turn on the light.
It’s too dark to read,
Much too dark to see,
And the switch unclicked so far away…
I enjoyed what I got.
Many an epitaph in those words:
I enjoyed what I got,
And got absurd-
But I’ve been a woman
Of many words,
And there’s a kind of toil the life compels-
Not the calloused-hand groans,
The sore, stretched joints
That in lying still
Is its own reward
But the discontent review,
The scouring, sieving, searching moans
Looking to see
If new exists,
And if the old is home
Or may ever be.
The wanderer, clutching a pen
Instead of a penny
Aware of the broken harbors
No soul repairs-
Alive on a dare,
A daring, wild-faced hope
That runs into the dinner party,
Fully in-swing and halfway through,
In bare feet and foreign tongue,
Cognizant of the madness,
And surveys the crowd
Looking for the One worth attending-
Alive on a dare-
Some amateur experiment
In Truth and the limitless potential
Of the Infinite.
While weeping, grateful-
Desperately grateful
Like the finger-ribbed mongrels
Hip bones as hinges
Whimpering and licking the earth
After a morsel of kindness
Grateful
For the sudden beauty
Breaking new over wasted ages:
The stumbling amnesia
The pitching rages and refusals
And then something beautiful
Washes the world clean again.
Persistent tides
Pounding down the rough-hewn edges
Lifting into dancing vapors,
Raining onto meadows,
Washing out the earth-
Which is where I spent the night.


Hope > Despair

In You, I am complete
While ever in deconstruction
I swallowed defeat
But not destruction
You have lavished mercy-
I search Your instruction.
You’ve inscrutably chosen me,
And written my introduction;
I eagerly read on.

You surrounded
My petty despair,
My fears unfounded,
With others who care-
To Your glory redound
The unity we share.
May the world be astounded
By the work You’ve declared
And expounded

Accomplished by fiat,
and kneeling intervention.
Grace beyond grace-
Love beyond comprehension!