Friday meditation

October 16, 2015 § Leave a comment

I will fold your heart gently in a white paper packet. I will crimp the edges to tuck you in. Like a child in bed, you’ll be safe, surrounded, encircled in smoothness, protected within.

With soft white sheets I will surround you, so fragile, in the palm of my hand. You’re my tiny walnut, my baby apple seed, my uncrackable lady, my Me more than Me.

I’ll open the cage of your heart oh so gently. I’ll hold your caked blood in the center of my hand. I’ll kiss it away sweetly, new warmth to be given. I’ll heal, I’ll straighten, every wrinkle within.

I’ll twine you up, like spun cotton candy. I’ll blow you away, like grass in the wind. I’ll fold you up in a white paper packet, set you inside, where no thing can get in.

A poem

March 12, 2015 § 4 Comments

I’ve been reading a bit of poetry lately so I thought, what the heck, I’ll try my hand at writing one of these things. For your enjoyment (or exasperation, whichever you like):


Broken, I stand;
Made small, subdued
to glow, polished corn kernel.
That which was within — aborted.
Something new swept in
to fill full, plump as
a ripe split tomato, pomegranate sweet.
Salted, not to eat
but to be consumed by the friendly lion.
Neither dead nor alive,
in the in-between land in the inner place
where Wisdom dwells.
Shafts of golden corn in sunlight flowing
in a Midwestern breeze.
Under blue skies, my bare feet on frozen ground,
You spoke, whispered, screamed! —
and what could I do but turn?

Water splashed and blood
dripped, poured off my face,
splattered on my feet.
You clean me with Your white rag.
You hold me in Your holed hands.
Father. Mother. Oh, my God.
You set me on an island in the sea.
You feed me coconuts beneath
palm trees.
You lead me on through
to Golgotha;
to a church pew
in a city;
in a square box;
in a guitar string.

You want me.
And I — oh, I! — I want You, too.
Not fully, but
turn me round and I’ll dance, barefooted
and holy on
Your Whole.

Where Am I?

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