Category Archives: Poetry

Clothed in Light

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The rain came down all day, in a dry and thirsty place

The rivers and gullies rose, brooked banks, flowed, opaque with runoff, to the sea

The little girl felt the weight of it all, no running across the bridge, no looking for turtles and treasury things

The kitchen dance party helped, and the toasted sandwiches

Thank you, God, for the gentle rain, the dappled night, and Dollar Tree ponchos

Which make us all shimmer like apparitions as we walk the dogs through, dark, light, shadow, puddles you can kick up into arcs with your bread roll clogs

Puddles so deep and wide a girl can see her own reflection in them

Reflection of Him (who made the water, who calls the rain)

Who calls us all to shine like this all the time

In the wedding clothes of Light

(Revelation 22

Central Texas)

Ascent

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Who questions the story? The strange-god-man beast? His labyrinthine abode? His carnivorous diet? The architect of his incarceration? The boy prisoner?

The last flight

wax and feathers, frenzied, ersatz wings

We all know this is not going to fly

But we proceed nonetheless

Watch them go in your mind, at least, father and son soar in the cloudless

sky where

All literary imagination and polytheistic scaffolding cannot stop the

Firmament from becoming thin and cold a million miles from the sun

Not hot at all, wings useless but intact

The boy would have died eventually, no doubt, but not from any hubristic ascent

No rather, the same things that tie us all to the ground

Aged and infirm

Dragging beautiful, insufficient wings across a sandy shore

This is the labyrinth

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First, there is a forgotten Grace—tie this end to the fastening nail, hold onto the string no matter what!—

lights along the highway, who else is up at this hour?

-unspooling like a fishing line—

Saviors, truckers, a rogue paper man, and someone buying ice

-who knows how long the journey-

Love songs and lighted windows

Make a map out of insomnia and vigilance

Lost phones and lost loves

Welcome to the labyrinth/ hold tight to the scarlet cord

Every word that proceeds from the mouth of God

Dissolved into Light

She says

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“That was too short!“

I tell her that it would have been longer if

She had been quiet faster

Will you write another one if I am quiet? She asks

Hard to, nay impossible to,

Say no

Beautiful mockingbird

Origami daughters

Their hair ribbons of color and light like their mothers

Were-are-will be

“nothing shall be impossible”

Wind! Birds! Mockingbird! Mother!

He is

The wind that shakes the trees, lifts the wings

Heals the world

(John chapter 3–all of it!)

Pareidolia

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Within days of the end of an era I lay beneath a cloudy night sky and drew faces from slow moving clouds and stars and planets

I resisted the urge to cup your face in my hand or bang the flats of my palms against the heavy plate glass of the cathedral

Yell your name

But I had to

Had to

Had to

Touch the hem of your garment

Pray you turn and say my name

The Frog King

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He would be

A lovely boy who lived

Close to the frog pond

The tadpoles would catch glimpses

Of him through the refractory waters

Walking to and fro in the cool of the day

But could they trust their love? How could they ever measure up?

How many froglings does it take to amalgamate

A suitable consort for a King?

All of them with all their hearts

Eyes fixed skyward

To see his face and speak at last in the tongues of

Men and angels

How to want…to be His friend

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You have to see past the blood—your own and his

The stinging sweat and the jeering crowds

The voice in your own pounding brain

Nay, voices—

Saying that no king of anything could die like this

Alone and vulnerable in the dumpster fire of all

You have to focus on his eyes

What he sees and what is reflected in them

Love beyond measure/sky without end

And you must listen to his voice

Agony is too small a word for what he has done for us

The fire of the wrath of a holy God

Substitutionary Everything

Nothing left without Him.

Someone has to watch out for bears

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This was a long time ago

Four beautiful young women decided to go camping on a weekend in the spring. They drove to the hills of Virginia with a cooler full of food but no charcoal or lighter fluid.

They had not anticipated the crowds.

The only thing left was offsite camping

Grown ups took pity on them and gave them some properly grilled food when their firewood was green

They had set the tent up before dark but returned to it in the night

Prayer and a flashlight got them back to it in the dense spring woods

Once there, two slept easily

Confident the other two would

Stay alert for bears, and much worse, intruders in the dark

The Keeper of Time

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Why must I know what day it is in order to prove that I am cognizant?

Time is a shape shifting chameleon

Once a sundial or a watch of the night

Now it monitors the heart

Attempts to forecast the rain

And makes us feel the limits of the box we cannot bust out of on our own

Meanwhile

Eternity, the Infinite

Has already won.

You tell yourself

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You tell yourself it will do no good

To acknowledge the child who floated in the beads of the ultrasound or the mantras of the obstetrical attending—

It is for her best not to know

Or the terrible error in calculating

The time it takes to unpack and repack a Pilot

A truck, an Accord, a house, a life

You tell yourself

It would have happened by now

The Icarus Moment

The violent fall

When an ordinary man walks into light eternal

Only to become it

We will all be changed

Some moments last for all

Eternity