The sky is but a blanket to cover us in this garden of the world in which we play. I can hear your laughter ringing out, like youthful memories of summer evenings at the edge of dusk, when the first stars emerged and voices would be carried for miles. Yes, the sky is but a … More A Poem: Blanketed

My morning prayer rises with the light. Swells like the billowing bud, or the ocean’s wave against a shore. Crests like the sun edging over the hill, catching alight each bark and leaf turned to its glow. My morning prayer escapes as breath, meeting the cool dawn air, or as birds suspended, in the pleasure … More A Poem: Signals

What do I pray for? I can’t pray for peace, not while the wind blows through the branches. But right now, the bird, whom I’m sketching with words, sits on the tremulous limb chest puffed out to the sun. I see the ways its wings and feet work, to keep it attached to a dancing … More A Poem: Bird on a Branch

Forget the mask. Forget the forehead set. Forget the stiff upper lip. Let yourself tremble, shake like the windblown leaf, speak your truth. Though it might be to admit failure, fear or pain. Life has its vicissitudes and we can sometimes start to roll like a stone gathering speed, or may feel the pounding of … More A Poem: The Holy Broken

Everything is made from ashes. Just as the skin sheds continuously, or trees divest themselves of leaves, or the shells are broken down to countless smithereens, so everything that breaks, falls, sheds, is reduced back to dust to sand, to ash. To the stuff of which the earth is made. Resurrection is revealed best in … More A Poem: Ashes

If we were given just one day, if everything were new but we still understood that this were it, this once chance at living – what would we do? And what if it stretched, this 24 hour block, what if it slowed and appeared to extend a life-time’s length. What would we do? And what … More A Poem: One Chance