March woke me up with her atmospheric rivers, and unrealized crises, and pea-sized hail, and burdened sleep, and gentle rain, and school shootings, and warming sunbeams amidst brisk, prolonged Winter air and a cosmic war, and flooded fields and homes and roads and lives, and bright evening walks to look at the painful gift she … More A Poem: March in my bones
My deepest longing and most tender pain point is the desire to be seen. I mean, seen. I want the right people to notice when I’m wearing a mask and that I’m leaking out, even when I don’t realize it myself. I know this longing very well, and yet I still hide myself away behind … More To See & Be Seen
I am heavy with my own mortality, unawake to it until someone reminds me of Lent, the season a great cloud of witnesses remembered and embodied throughout 2,000 years — “from dust you came, to dust you shall return” — with the Hope in mind that the Son would rise again and with Him, we … More A Poem: Swallowed up by Life
I know I’m needy before I even come awake to it, but I only come awake because of its deep, isolated, long-ignored ache right smack in the middle of my chest. It feels like what a small puppy looks like sitting on the side of the road in the rain, alone. I almost can’t even … More On Neediness
Grace is the free gift of God’s enablement. – Mildred Bangs Wynkoop I am a living thing, with a body, a soul, and a mind — living, even with a body broken, sometimes unfamiliar; living, even with a soul sometimes unexplainably sick; living, even with a mind finite, failing me into frustration. I am a … More A Poem: Living