Capsized

Sympathy of Pathos 

Lives Torn, Unraveling 

Layers of Unknowingness

Screens Behind 
And Before

A Way Un-trespassed

Fraying 

Amid Scraps

Of Wreckage

And Lostness

Inspired by Irfan Inurnment’s work “Alabora” (Capsized) from ‘The Event of a Thread: Global Narratives in Textiles’ at Istanbul Modern, April 2019.

Alongside

did she just
check the box
for the tax credit
that has a name
but no breath
the son, the brother

did she just wince
at the simple
small talk
'how are you?'
faltering
'how many kids do you have?'

it feels unbearable
the succumbing grief;
cradle the mothers and fathers
in your good keeping
carrying their pain
Jesus,

Elijah

Noelle

Harper

Banner

still no more
but dancing, awaiting
in hope i rejoice,
in lament i grieve with, daring from
my safe distance, acknowledging
my unburied longing

Reflection praise

I practice
Stillness
Reflection
Watch, walk, touch, smell
Believe the image of Divinity
Is forming in me

My less-familiar path
Exploring the shadow side
Under-developed
The other hand, not right
(Not wrong)
Just preference

You see me here
Seeking
Settling in
Gaining comfort in this inner world
Slowly, strengthening
I wait for You

You're my journey's author
This invitation is marking me
This process is reality
Your molding
My stubborn clay is
Awe-inspiring

A blossom of faith

L-----
Fair as Lily
Strong, undaunted
A task to do

Withered flower
Once beheld
By your shining,
Blessing brow

Now such an onset
Of grief until,
Strength died and
Weakness in full.

Then a hand of
Repentance laid,
On sincere heart
And forgiveness made.

L------
Love so blooming
Gently obeying
Shining true

Gaze protracted
From that Fount
The little life,
soon went out

Like a wick
Carelessly quenched
So the cares of this land
Took hold and dwelt

Truly
The imperishable seed of Your
Word alone
Brings a steadfast blossom to the world

Mighty is the hand of salvation
Creator, Awaken-er, Redeemer, True
You plant the seed
Of faith you require, and keep it.

10-9-2006

Pen and Spark

Found
Lined paper, spiral bound
Twelve years gained
Unable to recall the memory
Of pen and spark
Yet pleased to discover 
A younger version
Crafting rhymes
Scolding edges
Awakening beauty
Hearing out the
Prophet and awaiting
The mystery
That is
Poetry

Perfection

I have an oil painting series of North American perennial flowers.
In my head I've painted each one; lupine; day lily; geranium; tiger lilies; echinacea; black eyed susan; butterfly weed; daisy; sunflower; coreopsis; gaillardias; iris; tulip; aster; queen of the prairie
with each stroke I teach myself,
reminding
of the perfection of each witness.
A hyacinth cannot sin
It just is,
and she is my delight.
I can
And by grace I rest,
yearning to believe I am
just the flower of His desire
irrevocably perfect,
delighted in.

Never alone

I.
There is a birth of grace
She's a slow and fragile one
to me, at least,
holding hands, learning to invite her in.
She'll be there to the end.

II.
Silence
The entry, behind the mountain,
kept shivering.

III.
Every loss engraved.
Every gain forgotten.

IV.
I had a built a connection
it had no tracks, a barely discernible path.
Before surgery I had kept to the city,
the high speed grief train.
Reflective windows, you can't see in.

V.
I can't prevent the loss
but as I am crushed
I can glory in the new wine.