on spring. a poem.

i love it when the rain falls

hard on the clods of dirt left all over the yard

the day before

melting them into the ankle high grass

thick with the thrill of spring

and all the hacks of my shovel

and all the sore in my hamstrings

and all the cuts on my arms

feel worth it

because of the rain

smoothing it all into place

   

       

After the stone rolls away. A poem.

after the stone rolls

away the heart longs for

wind

to fill its droopy sails with joy and

point

doubts toward a horizon

straight and narrow,

certain

with a harsh line of hope that

carries it through

roiling

waters, until the sun

sets.

Free. 

  

bare footed on the sand. a poem.

My second novel, Then Sings My Soul, released in stores and online yesterday. The story is about a man at the end of his life and his daughter struggling to care for him, the two of them also struggling to make sense of the pain and shame in their lives. There’s a lot happening over on my Facebook page surrounding the release, including reviews and articles and such. So today, here on my blog, I thought I’d just share a few simple thoughts in a poem about the themes in this story, a story for anyone looking for hope in the midst of hard stuff, as well as wondering where is God in the midst of our stories.

On a related note, you might also want to catch might my new article in MTL Magazine about the plight of the aging and why it matters.

*****

What’s a life
anyway, besides a
skip, a stone smoothed
by the waters until
someone picks it up
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pebbles balanced
precarious on top of time
teetering against the tides that
come in and go out again and
we’re left
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squinting at the sunset wondering
where did the day go
how did evening settle
upon our bones
wearied without warning
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and finally we step bare
footed on the sand and realize we are
each of us
a grain
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