Tag Archives: God
Child
No reason my heart ought beat
No logic
Save you, who saves me
From nothingness, thinks me something
From absence, brings me present
No reason, no logic
But perfect sense
First Of All
I am not God
But I know a truth
So I will say what
Let us recreate Woman
What the divine image!
Be she blessed
Let us grant her dominion
See these creatures
In need of a fruitful goddess
Let us know her abundance
Let us call her good
Let us rest
wife of his youth
Do you remember, before you were born, child, how I was sad a lot, for I, back then, was always the other?
While he, in utmost civil tongue, talked and laughed hard with others and shouted and murdered and silenced the me
I talked to you, “It is okay.” and God would keep us and we three would always, always, always have eachother
God danced with us and I with you when no one else would dance with me…there was always and always another
Read It: A Haiku
God and the poet
What do they own in common
Only the heavens!
Remnants
This is my own tragedy
This telepresence, of sorts
I, loving you
Self-created, for my imagination is that of a girl reading far too many fanciful tales of interplanetary affection and of camel-led caravans of the Orient
The dust of this all still surrounds me
Something I alone permit
Against God’s will,
I believe in you
Archaic Forward
I should’ve spoken to the sower
Not the flower, not the fruit
It was the Earth upon its axis
Not fault of the sunrise
Aiming accolades at More!
I’m complicit cursing less
Own Undoing
You did never plan we’d meet in California
I was never meant to see you in the Spring
As for our near-miss in Eastern Colorado
Call it fate, or God’s permit, or some damned thing
blaze
I am to go deep with you
Some say I have
Some ask what for
I know there’s no secret You
No obscure path
No hide and seek
I, Earthbound, in need of you
You, Smith…I, rod
You, Shield…I, scout
Wing
It is enough for me, the breeze today. To let it waft over me, and with it, bring a strength.
Beauty and curiosity, like a bleached-comb Cardinal, often ride on such air. This morning, though, wisdom arrived.
This morning, the wind asked for my resolve: A halt to crying over others’ big promises and small feet. The stop to the bruises I allow.
A decision that I am enough. The God who created me said so.
This weekend, a storm of understanding is predicted. An Eastern Bluebird cannot be far behind.
