writing
-
The Wailing in the Trees
My mother told me that owls in trees wailed the windswept night before her father died. I was ten when she first said it; her voice soft, but not gentle, as if she feared the words might wake something. We… Continue reading
-
Through the Pale Door
Through the pale door, they comea hideous throng with burning eyesand velvet mouths teeming with duskshadows twisted in funeral lace They do not knock, they do not waitTheir fingers scrape like rusted ironagainst the ribcage of the nightunlatching every dream… Continue reading
-
The Composed Heart
The whirl of thought begins to still when gathered in one placeNo more tomorrows chase the soul, God meets us in one place Imagination spins its tale, a vertigo of dreamsBut every false horizon fades when centered in one place… Continue reading
-
The Harmony of Spring
Bees buzzing gentlyflowers blooming in chorusearth sings her old song Sun smiling softlywarming the bones of the treeswaking every bud Brilliant blue sky stretchedlike a fresh canvas of breathpeace without a sound Petals kiss the breezelaughter hidden in the grassseeds… Continue reading
-
A Psalm For Those Who Stay
A knock at the chapel door: no hand, no soundJust silence dressed in mourning’s gownThe death you feared has come & goneAnd yet the clock keeps ticking on It tolls not noon, nor dusk, nor dawnBut wake, the bell beneath… Continue reading
-
Tangled in Her Devotion
Each kisseach toucha strike of lightningbeneath my ribsmy heart rising like a prayerthat forgot it was once silent The pull of her smilenot gravitybut something deepera field only we can feelhumming in the air betweenher breath & mine Her skina… Continue reading
-
More Alive Than The Living
They said the house at the edge of the forest was where people went to die. Not in flesh—at least not always—but in spirit. They called it The Hollow. No doors. Only a stairwell that descends without end. When Miriam… Continue reading
-
Searching for our Love
An explosion of the sensescolors behind my eyessoundless gasps turning into heat Muscles meltin your embracea slow surrendera delicious unraveling You are sweetsweet like candypressed to my tonguestaining my teethwith want We are no longer separateno longer names or shapesjust… Continue reading
-
The True World
The world unseen by mortal eyesAttainable by hearts made wiseThe sage who sees through earthly liesWhose spirit walks beneath the skies The pious soul in silent prayerBecomes the truth she seeks to findShe drinks the light that lives in airAnd… Continue reading
-
The House That Crawls Toward God
They say the house on Saint Mary’s Hill rings its bell only on Easter Sunday, but no one remembers who rings it. Locals avoid the place. Some claim it shifts position ever so slightly each year, as though it were… Continue reading
God Is In The Radio 