Corrected Lens

I love you, Lord, not for the road to my own castle that I took you for, but for You Yourself— the end of every road I take.

Well Acquainted with Grief

Yes, He knew grief—knew him like an old enemy. From the first betrayal—all His care and attention pitched for a bite of fruit—through the latest— a kiss on the cheek, an 11-man flight, a swear word on the lips of his side-kick—His heart bled. He knew the whiplash of loss; He had stared into the […]

The Visitor

Love stood knocking at the door and when I offered silence he waited, patient, on the stoop and called my name. – Each sally I would feign to make to leave the door and quiet the tiny blurt of conscience-prod— I saw he watched the frame. – I turned from him to read the world […]

Stronghold

The Lord is my rock; the quake cannot shake Him. The Lord is my tower; the hail cannot break Him. The Lord is my anchor; the seas cannot push Him. The Lord is my sky; the earth cannot squish Him. The Lord is my song; thunder can’t drown Him. The Lord is my flight; lightning […]

Primary Hopes

Green the dress Raging bright the hair Idling in the wind by yellow roses Eyes stare out. Across the ancient blue. Far gone….away.

It Could Have Been Sold

Ruined alabaster and a year’s worth of labor dripping off Jesus‘ feet— wasted— and all while people starve to death! So the loveless look on love and see but fault. But Love knows love— hears the echos of Himself in shattering stone, feels His own heartbeat in oil running down: it is a gift, and […]

Catching a Break

“Subject entering the dining hall.” The tired man in the construction hat rolled his eyes.“Do you really have to tell us that Rince? We can see.” “Following protocol, boss.” “Well stop.” The boss looked at the schematics before him. “About time for a trip, I suppose.” He pulled a lever with a kind of weary […]

The King’s Heart

My sings because heart it because The King rings music the King in serving with of kings enjoying, wrote joy command and His brings praising the songs I stand I love […]

When Love Meets Cold

When Love meets cold, it does not roll itself in brash, grey wool to cry; it gathers like the sky, folds itself around our dust, and falls— a hundred—thousand—million—times— in feathery diamonds all around us, making shining glory of the weathered ground.

Love and Marinara

They wrote a sonnet in spaghetti cooked, eaten together under twinkle lights – – – Photo by Rachel Claire: https://www.pexels.com