God has a way of working in the space
Between the end of normal but before
The light at the end
That dark, misty space
Where we grope
And groan
And curse the dank walls
Where the sound of our own footfall
Startles!
And so
We stand still awhile
Before lurching ahead
No longer sure whether we’re headed for the old
Or the new
Continue reading “Tunnel Vision (August 2020)”
Category: Poetry
Fever Dreams
Yester-day’s dreams mean little
When yester-day no longer belongs to us
And the-next-day belongs (near as any can tell)
To the soothsayers and the pundits
Continue reading “Fever Dreams”
Leftovers
What will be left of me
When the world turns back on
Will I have died to enough
Mourned enough
Stayed sane enough
To pave a new way
Continue reading “Leftovers”
When the world turns back on
Will I have died to enough
Mourned enough
Stayed sane enough
To pave a new way
Continue reading “Leftovers”
Someone Still Knows
The only thing on schedule this year are the ants.
Continue reading “Someone Still Knows”A Reflection for Indigenous People’s Day
I drafted this on Indigenous People’s Day, but wasn’t able to get it finished and posted until now. I offer this imperfect, searching reflection on the toll of perpetuating injustice.
Continue reading “A Reflection for Indigenous People’s Day”Grass in Early Covid
Walking the university
That day in early covid
All the gardeners home for weeks
Tools left to rust
Continue reading “Grass in Early Covid”
When It All Unravels
I planned to return to the blog with a piece about what I have been learning during shelter in place, but the events of the last few weeks can’t be put off until a more convenient time. And so, I hope you will accept this poem as an offering, a moment of soul-searching as I listen to the cries for justice happening across my nation, and an invitation to my community to listen well and seek clarity of vision as these events unfold.
Continue reading “When It All Unravels”Sheltered
What did Noah do
In all those long days at sea
The whole world a sea
Flooded horizon to horizon
Did it feel like a rescue
That wooden box crammed full Continue reading “Sheltered”
The Goldsmith
Next to the great thinkers,
The builders of castles
It seems I have not the resources nor the skill
To contribute to the arc of human understanding
As much as I desire to think and write
What might change history
I find myself instead twisting gold filigree
An inch at a time
To adorn the thoughts of another Continue reading “The Goldsmith”
