revivial. a poem.

overhead i hear it

Branta canadensis

your true name

escapes even the wind

an autumn throbbing and flowing

past unfurled wings

seeking streams of air


unaware of the sun above

the only force


us north or south

east or west

the whole formation


wider and farther

even as we


the same direction

* V *

Branta hutchinsii

brothers and sisters

squalling over



unpalling forgotten love




the gaggle to return



“I have loved you with an everlasting love;
I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.
 I will build you up again,
and you. . . will be rebuilt . . .

. . . See, I will bring them from the land of the north
and gather them from the ends of the earth.
Among them will be the blind and the lame,
expectant mothers and women in labor;
a great throng will return.
They will come with weeping;
they will pray as I bring them back.
I will lead them beside streams of water
on a level path where they will not stumble . . . “

~Jeremiah 31:8-9~

variations on a broken heart examined


i don’t know why i never
stopped believing
why the knife-edged pain did not slice
through my tethered desperation

by all accounts, darkness should have
some days, if i’m honest,
it wins small battles.

the twin armies of hate and unforgiveness pelt
my pretty little
safe little
with grenades.
arrows of fear shower me with
clouds of confusion.

serene and calm
i am not.

the ugly that is in me shines bright as a
blood red flare signaling
the enemy to advance.

i do not pretend this is not so.

but like a drought stays for a season and
is followed by quenching
i kept after Him.



that’s not it.


He kept after me.


after one of the most devastating droughts in Indiana history, these growing things still remain in my garden.
and i am grateful that they still chase the sun.
that the sun still chases them.

“But blessed is the man who trusts me, God,
the woman who sticks with God.
They’re like trees replanted in Eden,
putting down roots near the rivers—
Never a worry through the hottest of summers,
never dropping a leaf,
Serene and calm through droughts,
bearing fresh fruit every season.

“The heart is hopelessly dark and deceitful,
a puzzle that no one can figure out.
But I, God, search the heart
and examine the mind.
I get to the heart of the human.
I get to the root of things.
I treat them as they really are,
not as they pretend to be.”

~Jeremiah 17:7-9 (TMV)~


What about you?

What remains in your garden at the end of a drought?

How have you–or have you not–kept the faith in the midst of brokenness?

then He carried her


she did not know freedom
wind limp under fragile wings
then He carried her



If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans, even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me.
Psalm 139:9-10 (NLT)