telling stories in istanbul
he looks from every angleand he pokes around each turnwith eager expectationof each weakness, he will learn he is snooping and he’s starvingjust one more luscious little biteof your flesh and bone and souleach time…
You wrap me in Your favorand You pour on me Your graceYou fill me with Your presenceand You turn to me Your face who am I, clearly unworthyyet You’ve called me as Your ownnot by…
the premise was preposterousa God man come to usdescended from the highest heightsto walk here in the dust the gods we knew were cruel and meandemanding endless sacrificesthat changed from day to day to dayat…
to sit here is to rememberto remember what was lostto exist in this black rubbleand to ponder what it cost Sunday’s coming but they don’t know yetcan you imagine their despairall the pain and deep…
wounded for our iniquitiesbeaten for our shamechastised for our transgressionsand bloodied for our pain betrayed for all our snide remarkstaunted for each my truth we livewhipped for our disobedienceeach time we failed to forgive today…
Lately I’ve had to borrow my husband’s readers so that I can see when I’m reading in bed. Frankly, it makes me wonder if it’s time to look into long-term care facilities. Yes, I recognize…
for the Visual Poetry version, click here. My neighbor’s garden is so lovelymy cousin’s yard so large and lushmy dear friend’s view a stunning mountainmy uncle’s life with friends so flush And they call to…
for the Visual Poetry version, click here. Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.His love endures forever. to the One who dreamed up the sun, started its’ engine, and caused it to rise…