From the bright coast

The railing of ‘should’
It is compulsion,

It is boundary

The exoneration of pleasure 

Into body, into sensation, into name

The sparseness 

Of wading into grief’s contours to find the shape of belief 

[After Wiman]

On language learning

When I learn a word, it’s like finally, the evasive, o-so-slippery fish is securely caught in my hands. No longer taunted by the memory of the elusive perch sliding through my grip. What makes the hold successful this time? That’s a mystery I do not know; I just filet and eat. Boney and tiny or big and juicy, it’s mine. Oh for a stronger net, to readily catch and contain these words, this life. 

A psalm of praise

We speak praise:

For the honor of sacrifice (wages, hours, days)

For the embrace of the Body

For the the softness of need

For the journey together; 

This monthly provision is the smallest of things He will do for you.

The mountain is a mole hill, standing from the vantage point of answered prayers.

The joy of that voice, confident and laughing, resounding with praise at the end of a journey, the destination reached;

And traveling the road gave life! With more history to call upon in the next lag of the journey. 

Keys given, viles full, experiencing the overflowing enough-ness, 

Being sent in a manner worthy,

To continue Sabbathing in Love.