Sunday, September 21, 2014

Alll goood thiiings cooome frooom You (September 6)

Only friend. It's You. I can never,
never find solace or comfort or strength
or real confidence anywhere else. Counterfeits,
yes, but not the reality. Yours is so
real I am afraid of it. Could it really be
that You are all I need? And that I can always fling
myself on You and it is enough, and sometimes
I don't even need to try?

It is so, so easy to be lured off track. Or drag my feet. Oh Jesus,
how willing and meek You were. You did not grasp at power,
at praise, at wealth - did not coerce love. Teach me Your ways.
Please help me to trust You with my mind - to remind me
of the important things, to make me a good loveress,
a good lioness.
Awake, awake, awaken me. 

Saturday, September 13, 2014


Birds blew in today
      from the north somewhere,
           beating the air, looking newborn in our wet backyard.

Summer falls back, hushing,
hissing from the barefoot rain of September

and the chanting of crickets, yellowing leaves of squash.
Damp grass, thickets of clover, Queen Anne's lace are browning slowly,

sugared at the veins.

I'm sick with love, with sin, with cynicism -
too quick, made rash from waiting. Longing.
Blessing with the passion of a curse,
through gritted teeth.

Katie, later this will all make sense.
I called you, fattened you like a pig and plugged your ears,
closed your eyes. I sucked you dry. I took back but I gave back,
I carried you, sent you songs in the night. Peeled back the blinds.
Do not be frightened:
pummel Me, swear, claim no pride in all your "I have never"s - you have.
You have nothing,  you are also being stripped. This, the greater gift.
I consign you to disobedience, and mercy. I have you.
Listen to Me: I love you.

            Cowbird, bluebird, nuthatch,
         northern flicker,



Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Bad Hair Day

another day that
clothes don't feel right.

Human, unrefined
daughter of Eve,

itching for Eden. 
Eating a fried egg from the hot
skillet, bending over the stove. 

Food dives down my throat
unthanked, untasted.

This is what we call
a "bad hair day"; another way of making
excuses for our gap teeth, muffin top,
athlete's foot
and halitosis.
sluggish hands and reedy voices,
post nasal drip.

Did You feel like this? So painfully
un-suffering, unready, pasted on?

With all I am, I need You.
Work with this.