Skip to main content
Oh Lord, your day is
Dawning and the sun

Has come for me!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Poem 4

though i stand chapped by the hot air of my lungs; though my heart stinks with the festering of open wounds; though the fount is caked in claret crust, from the sting of weeping cuts and viscous blood your name is a healing balm, your spirit is vitality you still the boiling waters; subdue the unsettled shores. when the choice of rebellion chafes creaking anxieties cleave and splinters break, you dependably pluck them up, a little litter; and burden the bugs no more.

Poem 9

washed up, my skin is the bristling foam and bright sand of the beach; a prolonged contact with the Holy lapping, lapping, lapping. washed up from tumult, the inner sea; the fight to keep it down, unsuccessful for too long i am ready to rise; to walk with my measly legs, i get up to turn around, and face the flooding surge of the storm with what balance and grace God gives. we will see what follows after, a baptism and a drowning.