Is that what writing, really, does for a person? Stills the body, narrows the mind to a pinpoint or widens it to an ocean, quiets its restless, ceaseless, relentless motion. Forces coherence, a slowing of thought. I began a tanka challenge this month. I got the idea from Geneva Eby at One Brave Thing. “A […]
Recently I saw this poem framed in the home of a dear older couple from our church. I remember hearing it long ago, so coming across it now was like coming across a dear old memory and being freshly inspired. I hope you are inspired also. No Time To Pray I got up early one
A Poem: No Time to Pray Read More »
Confession: I don’t know much about poetry. When I write a poem, I put together words I like. That is all. Imagine this poem spoken over a changing table in that moment of weird realization when you wonder how on earth this human being, with her knowing eyes, arrived in the world fully formed. She
Lines Spoken Over a Changing Table Read More »
I know a mother who lost four children when they were still tiny, their limbs and their features unformed. She wants badly to hold a child that is hers if for only an hour. But she will never know their faces, their genders, until heaven. She weeps. I know a mother who laid her four-month-old
When I wrote this poem some years ago, I thought it was a bit boring. Such plain subjects: a kitchen, baking, a woman. Now, reading it again, I love it. Plain or no, simple things are beautiful. Reading it, I remember my mom. She is the subject of this poem. And I remember the grateful,
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