FAQ from an Alpha Female
Is my stomach too big, Or my butt too small? Is my skin too flawed, Or am I too tall? Are they shaking their heads When I wear a short dress? And when I rock sweats, Do they think I’m a mess? Where is he looking? At my …
My God
I have felt the soul-stirring. I have heard from God’s lips. He is more than tradition, More than a fading script. I have known Holy Fire. I have tasted His hope. He is more than a story, More than a trope I have watched His True Power. I have seen …
Song for Truth
I look to you, O first writer of history and tomorrows. In all your glorious mystery and transparency. Watching your movements, woven like a tapestry of chokhmah. Like twirling stitches in the cloth of your plan. I gaze at you, the only steady One in this earthquake world. Give me …
I Am Not Afraid
You say you do not believe. That is a lie. You pick up clawed hands and bloodshot eyes, planting those things in your fertile brain. Because all you have is yourself. And your soul’s tendons are too weak to crush the darkness. I am no different than you. …
Small
Perhaps nature is far too vast to know. Some say we’re destined for potted plants. Maybe we can’t scale the Sierras. We’re doomed to communion with ants. But they don’t know that ants can heft boulders, And plants when they’re watered will grow Into pines, that inspire all around …
Warden
My mother’s father drove to his warden job at the maximum security prison. He drove there in a Volkswagen Beetle with a spare tire under a smiley-face cover. My ears have never caught Papa yelling. Did that jail calm him? No, he quieted the cells. Mother said his voice was never …
I’m Me
I choose what I do carefully, But I always give one-hundred percent. I can walk pretty well, But my knee’s a little bent. No matter what happens, I always can see: Wherever I am, Whatever I am, Whoever I am, I’m me. I want to travel every …
Words Like Rain
How could I not breathe words like rain? They’re harmonies my soul can hear. The world exhales beauty and pain. Inside my heart they will remain, These letters that I must revere. How could I not breathe words like rain? I see a meadow, from my lane. I …
Dryad
My hands are sprouting vines. With every step they grow and move. My eyes are azaleas. They bloom witheach tear. My hair is sun. It glows and shoots its honey rays. My legs are trunks of birch. They send roots into this place. My lips beg …
We Have Forgotten
We have forgotten how to feel. News flashes by at break-neck pace. The fake consumes us; where is the real? Each story comes on the turning wheel. No longer moved by a tear-drenched face, We have forgotten how …