For 2020: "A Year of Seeing" A Collection of Poetry and Art that Nurtures a Deeper Awareness of the Spirit's Transforming Presence
I Scream with my Fingers Is it not enough to grow roses? To bow to the curve of a stem, to respect the thorn that stifles my greed, to show devotion not to a friend, no, something deeper and truer still? Brushing petals trains my hands to be gentle-- perhaps my heart can... Continue Reading →
Ode to Wanda Lou At least five times a day I lift our cat Wanda Lou and press the side of my face against her furry body and close my eyes and listen. And stop. I don’t know if she knows that her heart beats within her, but I know and am thankful... Continue Reading →
The Sweetest Flame Love burns away what is not it-- what is not of it-- with the sweetest flame. Life is sublime if you invite the Spirit to blow on the embers of your life. . 1/4/2020
The same other side There is a peculiar pressure in this weary world to go out and up, out to conquer and solve, up to succeed and better-- a peculiar pressure to out and up. Why, then, does my heart, the still center of my soul, feel pulled in and down? ... Continue Reading →
Hot g...u...m... Some days my soul feels so very s t r e t c h e d pulled thin like hot gum on the bottom... Continue Reading →
The things that are sown My grandmother grew roses in the hot Arkansas sun with my eyes fixed on her walking through her garden with ranks of pine trees towering like rooted columns in our private cathedral that was censed with sweet, dripping resin with a carpet of St. Augustine pushing between my toes... Continue Reading →
A Bad Poem Is it not worth it to reach out with your shaking hand-- even with the other one pressed across your eyes-- and take your pencil and make the first hesitating mark on the paper so that the questions you have long held like a frightened bird whipped in the wind can take... Continue Reading →
Minaret The sound of the bells stayed close that morning because of the fog and clouds that pressed down and gently held the memory to give it time to soak in. The kindness of his eyes and the love in the squeeze of his hand had seeped in my skin and filled the place where... Continue Reading →
Yes, a waiting There is a certain stillness in all things like a stone that lies waiting for the rivulet to touch it and wash away what needs to be let go of so that what is left-- Oh, what is left! A stone worn smooth by the flow of life to leave the... Continue Reading →
