Questions alcoved in the long,
Curved necks of lamp posts—
A God who reaches His light
Toward the murky darkness.
Souls slouched in posture on
The side of the road, unseeing,
Focused inward, cradling the
Night close until their eyes
Stop percieving the daylight.
There must be rows and rows
Of them, all lined up on the curb,
Hugging their knees close, blind
To the shoulders inches from
Their aching hearts—
Children of the world, chastising
Their lack of knowledge, their
Inability to move—
The narrow road moves on,
A river of hope outlined by a
Figure of patience, watching as
The bodies of cars buckle and
Deflate on the wide avenue,
Drivers unfolding from the smoking
Holds to the row of people who 

Relied on the promise of themselves.

Rended heartstrings
on a beat-up guitar,
A voice trying to
reach heaven—

The borders between
souls merge, only
Family in the air of
the Spirit—

I let the pool widen at my feet,
The vanity of myself leaking
From my body, gathering at
My ankles, forming an ocean.

One day, as I no longer relied
On my own strength, I saw
I was walking on the water
Of Grace.

The hours began to pass
Like strawberry jam
On sourdough toast
In the morning.

Silk-thin pages flapping
In the gentle wind,

Birds of God’s creation
Squawking above.

The sun seeped through
The clouds like honey,
Droplets of joy, of

God’s presence.

Breathe in, breathe out,
The revival of the soul,
Hours gained as I
Rest in my Lord.

A wall of empty polaroids,
Picture frames of memories
That only existed in my head—
I waded in my worries, bathing
In the darkness of my knuckles

As they held tight to the control
Around my life’s throat—
At the bottom of growth, nowhere
To go but upward, toward the
Light of glistening things, of His
Glory working to shine through
The drapes I closed to stew in

My pain—before I was Saved.

One heart tied to mine, slowly
Loosening as the strings of Jesus
Grew stronger, brighter, fastened
Around a sapling He was dredging
From the soil—when did I outgrow
The other flowers of belief that
Surrounded? To one soul, I was
Unrecognizable, and to others, I
Was only catching up, floundering,
Until I realized He was the Center.

A passage of unseen looks,
A stolen question, sequestered
By worries—
Can I see you
For a moment?
Words laid at a doorstep,
Fingers quietly wound together,
A hand holding a head--
Don’t speak,
You don’t have to.
God knows your heart better
Than I ever could.
Bring it to Him,
Fall apart,
Feel the Spirit catch you—
It is not my arms,
But the love of Christ
Supporting you through me,
Gracefully broken.

Pale yellow pages,
Torn at the sides,
The words thoughtful
As they fill up the
Ordained space—
His hand is smooth,
Full of love, using
Us as writing pads
To spread His grace.
We are flyers of the
Words He lays on our
Hearts, flitting in the
Wind, until He decides
We’re all out of pages—
Beauty returning to
Its likeness again.