All these questions
All these contradictions
Searching for answers to…
THE WRONG QUESTION.
“How?” Why?” “What?” “Who?”
You forget the key –>
The question that is the answer
To all these questions:
“When are you?”
And the answer is:
You are now.
On the bridge.
Not a kid. Not one of them.
In the middle. On the way.
Part way there. Not there yet.
Do not demand so much.
Gently take this journey.
Which you can not stop,
Should not fight,
May not speed up.
Just be now sweet darling.
Gently ride this train
Where the questions
won’t be answered,
But they won’t hurt so much.
I sit swimming in words, swimming INwards
wandering wondering about love
when I check for her words
and find five notes that splay themselves
out for me to touch like waiting lovers.
Will she let me be her editor?
One of learning
Two of Church and Family
Three of Motherhood
Four of Discovery and Revelation
and Five of me.
She thinks this is prose, a post,
journaling a truth to send my way
to maybe send me away.
This handsome disclaimer that she is —
Does she know that she has made me poetry?
I have a picture in my mind
of a lineup of cars leading into the school
and I can see in front of me,
and in my rear view mirror
that each one is filled
with a tiny adult and a giant man-child. Continue reading “Drop Off”
What is the difference between
Making love, poetry, and a prayer?
Your tongue tastes like honesty
In my mouth.
I want to meet you in that spot,
Where God comes through.
This, this is a daily practice.
I’d like to hear more about how I annoy you.
I have shared myself, and over-shared myself
delighting in using you as my muse.
And wonder if it sometimes feels like
I am abusing you with these words?
Continue reading “Love letter to my penpal”
Growth happens where I lose it.
Growth happens where I choose it.
Growth happens where I choose love.
Growth happens when I choose love.
I happen when I choose love.
I live when I choose love.
I live when I love.
I live love.
I spent most of my life not saying.
But you let me say it.
Over and over you implored me to say it.
I screamed love, hate, confusion.
I begged. I weeped.
Words poured out of me, staining your bed. Continue reading “Listen”