Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’


Yesterday I turned my chair toward the window.

And I sat.

And I watched the sun move across the sky.

And I followed the light as it changed through the frame of my window throughout the day.

From glowing back-lit birch leaves to the glare of head-on shining ones.

I watched the silver strand of a web appear and disappear just as quickly.

The breeze itself changed from crisp to cool and soft and sweet.

And I was glad that my body beckoned me to be still and imposed on me a sabbath.


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Forgotten Memories

What do you do with a memory that has been forgotten?

I have this rock whose color makes me exclaim “azure!” not just “blue.”

Something about it feels like I found it near the sea.

And do I remember that it is more vivid when it’s wet?

I don’t know why I collected this memory,

And some other unknown thing compels me to keep it.

But once I was somewhere with someone,

And undoubtedly that meant something.

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When I go out for a walk I am often arrested.


Struck by some sight.


Sometimes my jaw even drops.


Two trees, growing close together.


One with a branch around the other.


This is how we should grow.




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I don’t want to be



slipping and

slouching or



I want to be







I want to get up — to feel, to see, to hear, to touch, to taste.


To love, to heal, to comfort, to play.


To laugh and not languish.


I don’t want to sleep anymore – I want to wake!




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A Real Imaginary Butterfly



I thought I saw a butterfly today.


But even if I didn’t,


And it was only my imagination,


It is enough to remember that they exist.






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Eye Sight



My senses are failing.


My compass points where I point it.


I cannot hear with my ears,

Feel with my heart,

Know with my mind,

Or see with my eyes.




And then,

Adrift and spent…


I hear with my heart.


I feel with my mind.


And though my eyes no longer see you,

You have become my sight.




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The Night is not the Hard Part

Assembly Mennonite Church, Goshen IN



When the moon is shining softly and the stars are sparkling in their heavenly setting,


When the whirring of the day gives way to the humming of the night,


When the air is cool and candles need lighting,


That is not the hard part.


The hard part is when the sun shines brightly, but the warmth of its rays cannot be felt.




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