ADVENT

the sky is hopeless and blank
inspiring less than depressing
and yet

a light burns
to warm faces
and even as hope goes down
the horizon begins to warm
and the color returns to her cheeks

KINDLING

you scratched my surface
like the paper napkin on the table
shredded with with your dark ink:

I love you madly, Cari

but not enough

DRIVING ON HIGHWAY 495

the sky scraped my soul
as my eye raked across
the textured swath of cloud--
bruised for bruising
and hurting like my hopes--
as the aching hills
and dying leaves
became brittle and weightless

the pages of what i wished was my future
were blown away farther and faster
than i could drive


only the sun sought to
brown me and make me a part of them

THINGS THAT ARE TRUE

some things sound true
but are too good

other convenient truths demand nothing of us
have nothing to lose
are not fearsome
dangerous

Do hard things. Love. Trust. Believe.
Wait. Be quiet. Be still. Submit. Surrender.
Die. Pick up your cross. Love your neighbor.
Love your enemy. Love me.

A LETTER

I wish you were still here,
but I would not wish you back
for fear of losing you again.

Next time my grief may not be so kind.

In a way, I feel like you have never left,
for you are so much a part of me,
so much a part of my thoughts.

I am writing about you again
in my Personal Nonfiction class.

I know you will be pleased.

So here is my effort
to continue the conversation with you,
to invite you into my life
even as you have left it.

So sit still, okay?

Don't go away.

I need you here.

FOR WHAT DO I WAIT?

"She is ambivalent, variously calling out for Artemis to kill her and, apparently, considering marrying one of the suitors. When the disguised Odysseus returns, she announces in her long interview with the disguised hero that whoever can string Odysseus's rigid bow and shoot an arrow through twelve axe shafts may have her hand. 'For the plot of the Odyssey, of course, her decision is the turning point, the move that makes possible the long-predicted triumph of the returning hero.'" --Bernard Knox, introduction to Robert Fagles's translation of The Odyssey (1996:55).

I would wait ten years or twenty
If I knew you would return
And like Penelope
Would be an island
And undo all the weaving done the day before
To delay my wedding day
And forestall any suitors
If I only had a certainty

But now my hope feels hopeless
And I wonder if
I am stalling the tapestry
For a man that will never come
A man that will be lured away by sirens
Who may not see the wisdom in wax and moly
For stopping up ears and warding off nymphs

UNTITLED

the flowers are mostly gone
but I still feel compelled to stop and smell
the blossom that remains on the branch

that's the part of me that existed
when peonies bloomed in the Square
the part of me that stopped--
supported by your arm--
and loosed a pebble from my shoe
before lifting my favorite flower to my face

except my love for you didn't exist then

now both parts of me stay on the stem
never to die very soon

Or, in haiku form...

the flowers are gone
but I still stop and smell your
blossom on the branch

UNTITLED

I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry

I am

GOING TO THE DRIVE IN

the neon sun
shuttered behind misty blinds
seduced me to the horizon
with its wide pink glow
and sunk before i could reach it

but his sister rose to meet me with her clean face
and offered what the sun would deprive

CLUD CLOD CLOUD

down the drain with the sun
pulled
across
the
pink and blue
marbled sky

WAITING FOR THE SUN

Painfully green
and ready for the sun to shine
but the rain insists on delaying
its coming
and whetting my appetite
with its romance

DAD

he so loved me

THE RICH YOUNG RULER

you are young
and rich
in ways that cannot be counted
and rule over
all the things I have ever wanted

and like he
you have walked away
sad
and for once i can say

i am just like jesus

CHURCH

picture all of the people in your life
that you've lost touch with
people that you worked with
went to school with
met
and imagine them all
sitting in the same room
on the same page
and you can forget
all the differences
all the quirks that annoyed you
all the reasons you lost touch
and suddenly
you are glad they're here

ON 495N JUST BEFORE EXIT 23C

the green corridor
once leaning in winter
under the frozen strain
that glazed their limbs
gives way to a broad valley

open and willing
verdant and inviting
paved but not broken

for you for you for you

yours.

ONE WORD: TEAR

tear me up
shred me into little pieces
i can't be made smaller by your efforts
or little in your estimation

tear me down
knock me over with your disapproval
and i will come back up
over
and
over
and
over

again

http://www.oneword.com/

THE MONTHLY PLUNGE

Like a helpless jewel that has slipped from your finger
no plumber can stop the descent
or shut off the tears you cry

The swish down the bowl and the slime in the drain
makes it difficult to crawl up and out

When your heart is in the toilet
you just have to wait for it to fill up again
before you can flush it

CONSTANCY

the quality of being unchanging or unwavering, as in purpose, love, or loyalty; firmness of mind; faithfulness

perhaps it's a good thing
it means i'm loyal
and unchanging
it means i'm faithful
and firm

but it also means
that i'm constantly
fixated and obsessed
or that i'm living in the past
and unable to let go

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross (Hebrews 12:2).

A HEART CASHED IN

will you accept
a ticket that's already been torn
a token laid on the tracks
a heart cashed in

can you redeem
all the things I've done
and all the things I've lost
for all the things I want

because i need
acceptance
redemption
everything

i want it all

UNTITLED

desolate and aching
empty and swollen
as a womb that must be shed

I long to be filled
and hurt to be torn
and my pages they long to be read

WHAT MATTERS MOST

it's not your difference of opinion that matters
but that you disagree and yet respect me
with equal and opposing self-control

it's not your theory that matters
but that you do not in the same breath
deny the existence of God

it's not your creed that matters
but your willingness to put yourself
at God's disposal

2008

READ OUT YOUR GREEN BOOK IN VERSE

I'm looking for a rainbow
I'm expecting some color in this rain
Scanning the horizon
Looking in the rear-view mirror

I know it's there
Even if I can't see it

I AM

it matters not what the future holds
i cannot grasp what lies behind

but who i am now
is the thing
is the truth
much more than who i was
has made me what i am
or who i will become

so i must be who i am
and live myself to the fullest today
because the past is gone
and tomorrow is not guaranteed
so my living and hoping
must be in the reality that exists
not in something that has died
or the potential that may never be

my hope is in the Lord
who was
and is
and is to come
He's a sure thing

so if i never regain what was lost
and never find what i'm looking for
i will be complete in the knowledge
that i am loved
and was loved
and will be loved
no matter what happens to me

no hope in the future
no anchor in the past
but hope in the One
the Way
the Truth
the Life
the I AM

MURDER, I WRITE

i'm Jessica Fletcher
that person you know
who always tries to be right
who dares to be diplomatic
while the rest of the world is warring

it's not only impossible to always be on the right side
it's annoying

UNTITLED

a bell is ringing somewhere
the air is cool and fresh
after the storm

as the clouds break
the sun yellows
their bruises

the birds sing
because that is
what they are made to do

the moon drains
like a sand dollar
cloven in two

who needs a rainbow
when you have a promise

IN MY LIVING ROOM WITH SCRATCHES ON THE WALL

I sit
with the damp air
pruning my feet
even inside
my woolen slippers

the blank wall
so desolate
save a stray nail
I have yet to remove

And so I have
removed everything
that reminds me of you
except

just as the man in solitary
needs no record player
my memory
needs no reminder

THE WONDER OF BIRDS

My heart is hopeful
at the sound of the birds
although the day is still grey

Their buoyance contagious
and melody amorous
I hearken to the outdoors
and stare at the peeling paint on the barn