Happiness is here its under the oak tree, or the open sky of blue, or stars against the dark. It’s in the breeze, soft against my skin, or strong enough to blow all my efforts apart. So that I simply am here right now; nothing brought to bear on this time. Nothing to take away … More A Poem: A Moment
There comes a day when it no longer matters what others think. All that matters now is that we follow our own lead. That we no longer resist the urge to get our feet wet. At the waterside. At the harbour, where we draw our own tide. Yes all that matters now is that we … More A Poem: There comes a day
He made me not for me and not for you, but for himself. He made me delicate, complex, unique. In that where I see imperfect, flawed, and inadequate; He see’s the beauty of his intent, the potential of his design, the splendid intricacy of his plan come to life. I was made for him and … More A Poem: Made for Him
Whatever fills our soul God gives us that. He is pouring wine into cups. We are to just hold ours out. He causes the sun to rise on all. The earth is ours and all that’s good. And as my skin responds to the warmth of a late winters morning, I see dew still on … More A Poem: Good
Tonight when I stepped out and beheld the moon, full and white, and blooming against the dark canvas of the night, I felt a tug, a pull to a place that I knew. That I might call home although I know not from where it comes, this sense of knowing. But still I feel it … More A Poem: Tonight when I stepped out
What might one become when given a voice, and room. Room to change, expand, grow, belong. How might our tender growth, be sustained until it is able to live and thrive on its own. Can we be space for one another and give room to speak; to walk, to dance, to hold our head high. … More A Poem: Room
Oh Lord you are too Holy. How do we become clean? Not by our own efforts do you assure me, but by immersing ourselves into the holy stream. Oh holy stream, wash over my stains. So that when my God looks at me he sees not the dirt of my hands; not my sullied self … More A Poem: Eden
We need a harbour. A harbour where we can moor our vessels that have been tossed and turned by inclement weather, by changing currents, and the wear and tear, of all our endeavours. We need a place where we can shed ourselves. Selves we have worn so long, that, like the colour on our lips, … More A Poem: A Harbour
Living Tree Poetry 