I’m waiting more, enjoying more
of the space between -
words, notes, breaths -
the space I don’t need
to step into, giving it up
for another.

I’m watching more, listening for
what comes next.
Not anticipating but enjoying
the not-yet.

Who knows?
God may speak again.

I hold your hand a little longer
for a deeper reflection.
a needed consideration
of the leaving,
of what I take,
of what I leave
and how I want
to say goodbye.

Poems are released
In The Round, in full circle,
To come back around.

I feel I need a green filter
to soften the glare,
to lessen the radiance
less I am consumed.

I find community,
shared story,
a chorus of poetry.

And the filtered sun warms
with a breeze.

When you lift your soul,
sometimes you may need
to lift with your legs.

Place both feet
at the base of the cross,
and brace yourself -
engage your core
and with all your waning strength
with all of your weary mind,
with every ounce
of your weighed down heart -
grip with both hands,
raise your chin,
fix both eyes on him,
and LIFT with your legs.

It's still summer somewhere
There'll be sunshine someplace
There's hope over the horizon
So don't unpack your case

Attend to your wounds,
mark your losses and
bear your scars - for each
borne wound is a win,
a sacrament mark
of survival worth
the celebrating,
worth wearing on your sleeve.

Jesus intended his wounds,
counted the cross a weight
worth bearing, not counting
his wounds a loss, but a cost
worth paying.

So, He now wears each wound,
each scar a sacrament,
a celebrated win,
because his wounds won you.