Wednesday, June 21, 2017


My hand cramps, refusing
To open and accept the gift.
Instead I hold, stubborn, 
On what I know to be worthless,

And from my tight, clenched fist, 
The offering slips through my grasp
And leaves mere skeletons
Of pleasure between my fingers -

Bare bones sucked dry of life, 
Like guilt. Frantically, I open
My hands to remedy
The moment, but find I must wait
For another. 

Photo Credit: Shin, Crom. dandelion. 20 May 2016. Flickr Creative Commons.

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

What Today Could Be

     "Dreary," I muttered, as I rolled over in bed this morning. After a long weekend of sunshine, late nights, and memories, I awoke to my busiest, back-to-real-life day of the week with a sky full of grey. Rain trickled down in spurts - not the exhilarating, pouring, mega-drops, but halfhearted, puny drizzles: too pathetic to turn on the windshield wipers, but just wet enough to keep you flicking them on and off, on and off, on and off.

     "Pathetic," my heart whispered, as I worked through my morning routine and left for school. Time with God was abbreviated and peppered with yawns. Tardy to-dos descended in thick torrents: emails to write, phone calls to make, lessons to schedule, homework to finish, recital prep to tackle. My coffee tasted like water run through a filter which at one time may have looked at a picture of a coffee bean. I was late.

     "Bored," my soul slumped, flipping through radio stations in the car, trying to find something besides investment and jewelry ads to listen to as I trailed long lines of irrationally bad traffic. "What a Jonah day."

     "Just think," a radio preacher's words contradicted, leaping into my consciousness, "Today could be the day.

     "Hope," the Holy Spirit boomed, as every dreary aspect of my morning melted into meaninglessness. Clouds or clear sky - what did it matter when both could be rolled away at any moment to reveal the Person for whom my heart aches? Drizzles or sunshine - either will look colorless and dull compared to the brilliance of what today we might see. This morning I could see my Savior? This afternoon I could go home? This evening could be my last earthly sunset? My window still says it's a cold, wet day in May, but my spirit is ready, waiting, expecting -

     Because, after all, today could be the day.

Photo Credit Maeda, Hiroaki. raindrops. 5 May 2009. Flickr Creative Commons.

Monday, April 17, 2017

It's awful how easily
A soul can slit the fragile veil
And slip from time-bound space
To all there is beyond

While families sit for dinner,
And women shop for evening gowns
And couples argue
And babies nap

Saturday, February 11, 2017


 If it's better to carve and build lives for ourselves,
Than to build tir'lessly, just to share -
If it's better to win recognition than scorn -
If "one's duty" is just grasping air -
If it's better to soak in life's pleasures,
Than to live, martyr-like, full of cares -
Then of all men we're most to be pitied,
For they're needless, these burdens we bear.

If the wellspring of kindness is deep within self -
If the source of all mercy is "me" -
If the total compassion we bring to the world,
Is summ'd up in what our hearts can be -
If it's only from what we can gather within,
That we're able to give gen'rously -
Then of all men, those 'round us are ruined,
For we're riddled with depravity.

But if purpose and love are not measured from man -
If a source exists, far beyond "I"-
If we find grander meaning in losing ourselves,
Than in having a name we're known by - 
If, on earth, all deemed worthy is proved to be naught,
And those knowing their sin are proved right -
Then of all men we're most to be envied,
For eternity's lived in our sight.

Photo Credit. Sunter, Craig. Full Time !. 28 September 2014. Flickr Creative Commons