Poetry
Is a soul as old
as her vessel’s earthly years,
or is a soul as old
as the heavens?
Is a soul as young
as her wonder is great—
at the garnet falling leaves,
at the dancing intricate snowflakes?
Is a soul as old
as the number of tears she’s shed,
or does each escaping tear
make her younger?
At the precipice of dawn
in the stillness,
a whisper: “Beloved, go deeper”—
an invitation to wisdom.
Curiosity takes a deep breath
then a long, slow exhale,
centering the soul
and welcoming whatever may come.
There is warmth
like that of
an evening fire,
inviting the soul
to rest.
There is safety
like that of
a divine embrace,
holding the soul
in its care.
There is openness
like that of
a wide-swinging gate,
allowing the soul
to be free.
There is stillness
like that of
an early morning fog,
guiding the soul
to its home.
There is liminal space
like that of death,
like that of birth,
welcoming the soul
to new life.
There is a friend of the soul,
gentle and steady—
listening,
listening.
Listen
while in-between.
This space
you’ve been given
is a gift.
The threshold between
what has been
and what is to be
invites you
to stillness.
A gift
of holy pause—
a space
for healing,
a space
for preparing.
All that is not
eternal
fall aways,
and that which is
shines brightly.
Listen
while in-between.
This space
you’ve been given
is a gift.
In slow motion
she walks,
moving through chaos—
searching
Wandering through crowds,
she sees
and hears
a spectrum of color,
decibels rising
With spirited longing
she scans faces,
eager to find eyes
which see
her eyes,
restless to release
the treasure
clutched tightly
in her palm
A vain quest,
sadness settles deep
Looking down
as her fingers
slowly open,
her unreceived offering—
a single pearl
I am changed by whispers in the night
They hold me close
as a lover holds the beloved
They are wisdom from a secret place—
sweet gifts for a pilgrim soul
I wake and the words are gone
Yet they are part of me—hidden—
woven deep into the fabric of my being
Their sacred beauty echoes,
calling me ever deeper
toward revelation’s time
God understands me to be a child
Child of Father God, child of Mother God
Consummation of love and wholeness
Fruit of divinity’s vine
God understands me to be a daughter
Daughter of Adam, daughter of Eve
Yield of crops of joy, chaff of fields of sorrow
Harvest of generations past
God understands me to be a friend
Friend of humanity, friend of creation
Breath of compassion, hand of care
Product of the heart’s desire
God understands me to be a mother
Mother of my children, mother of myself
Spirit of nurture, words of wisdom
Reap of intention
God understands me to be a companion
Companion of one, companion of many
Heart of listening, soul of knowing
Gleaning of truth
Free to be seen, no matter the past
Free to be loved completely, at last
Through painful surrender, forgiveness is mine
Though not without help from the Healer Divine
Touching our shame, ever gently and sweet
All bitterness held, through our weeping we meet
Spirit to spirit, fire burning bright
Only truth remains, only love in sight
What are we so afraid of?
Don’t we know that what we’re made of
is truth?
Why do we hide—
hold all the feelings we have inside—
from ourselves, from the world,
so they don’t see
what resides deep within you and me?
Constantly swirling all around
are truth and lies, there must be found
a way for the eyes of the heart to separate
light from darkness, love from hate
What if all the hurt in the world is caused
by one great evil, if we could only pause
to recognize its strangling hold
and see we’ve all been bought—been sold
lies
This evil, the cause of fear,
stays near to our mind, shouts in our ear,
keeps us from moving forward, growing toward
who we’re meant to be
The key to life is behind this atrocity
This giant will not tell you its name
as it claims to know you, causing you pain,
hurting those around you,
dictating what you can do and can’t do
But as hate gives way to love,
night turns into day, the same
light shines calling out this liar—shame
Shame cannot survive illumined by the sun
when we’ve become
genuine, compassionate souls,
we’ll be whole,
as we’re meant to be
Then we’ll see
that there’s nothing to be afraid of,
because we’ll know that what we’re made of
is truth
One foot in front of the other
Carrying the heavy stones of generations past
Holding them to my breast, warmed by the sun
They begin to heal the broken places in my heart’s DNA
Dropping them one by one, feeling lighter
Yet finding there are more
Whose weighted warmth shimmer
Waiting to be held
This task is burdensome and beautiful
It asks for all of me
The privilege of choosing the easy path is not mine
This arduous journey of hope has chosen me
As this moment ushers in
a new season—
that of autumn—
may we release the previous one
with all its pain and sorrow.
On this day
when light and dark are equal,
there is balance.
May it be so in our souls.
May we breathe in the newness
of what love is bringing.
May we hear and see and know
that God and the saints are present—
encircling us
in their hospitable care,
teaching us
to pause and to breathe,
teaching us
to feel and express gratitude
for what has been
and what is to come.
May we hold blessings—
of lessons
with their difficulty
and their triumph,
of growth
with its painstaking slowness,
of wisdom
as it draws us closer to God—
then release them,
not forgetting
but aware of their imprint
on our hearts,
and step forward
into this new season,
lighter,
with arms open wide
to receive the harvest.
Welcome, autumn!
On the canvas of a new day
the whispered prayers of my soul
rise to the illumined pastel sky
I am present in this thin space,
a threshold of beginning,
feeling the weighted blanket
of saints’ blessings upon me
From the treetops the cicadas
sing their wakeup chorus
as darkness peels into amber light—
a Godly rendezvous
I surrender to heaven,
within me and all around
I am a daughter of Eve
I have chosen a complicated path
I long for more
The beckoning never ceases
I am a daughter of Eve
My desire is strong
The unknown tugs at my soul,
Kindling the fire of longing within
I am a daughter of Eve
I yearn for knowledge and wisdom
I am not satisfied
Each sweet drop deepens my thirst
I am a daughter of Eve
Passion burns at my core
I am drawn to the road less traveled
The unexplored is my home
The healing power of water exists
in the sound of a winter snowmelt waterfall
the taste of a clear, cold mountain stream
the scent of spring rain as it unites with leaves and grass
the sight of a joyful splash through a summer puddle
the gentle touch that wipes away a fallen tear
Within this stirring of the senses—
this awakening of the soul—
lives the holiness of baptismal waters
