Oh, Joy, You came to us in the night— a baby boy—made like us— oh, God of might, small in Mary’s arms, whom Herod could not kill.
I was the girl in black, withering all away, the dreamer on the rack, beaten down with gray, the days were years, the years were centuries waiting for this day. All the yesterdays— those pale and hollow caves— all the tossing, turning ways of lying in the graves— the thirsts were flames, the flames were … Continue reading Alive
All words dress their tiny lines and curves in black, looking much the same. They blur together— grey streets across a page, taking us to bigger places. So why do some words— made of letters like the rest— stop my eyes, catch my heart, and drain me as if they bear the beauty of a … Continue reading Those Words
We laid the past to rest, down in the dirt, buried deep, thinking—hoping—it was the end. But then the flowers grew— memories in bloom across the grass— a portrait of life with not a hint of loss. Spring casts these foreshadows— the curse lifted, the tears gone, the work of God’s fingers making all things … Continue reading Foreshadowing