Time to put some more of our “White Gilt” to work.
Yo soy de otra tierra
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep
Choose today to consider “why” we are blessed.
color me puzzled and tired.
she tends with love. dirt-covered hands - still painful – cleansing the insides, to her soul’s very depths, as only fertile soil can.
Oh, that’s sounding better – God’s deeds and not mine /
perhaps I am still off the hook /
but who fought the “physical” part – got in line? /
you’ve got to remember to read the whole book.
I need you to see some flesh on the jagged bones of the life themes I’ve expressed in my poetry.
when love and indignation muddle, ’tis hard – which to express?
peace can still be found but you have to look for it.
the best of all gifts
come from the heart and the hands
touch you head to toe
with this Life?
Blessings and breakage live perilously close to one another.
At times, blessings and breakage intertwine, to the point where you often can’t tell one from the other, if, in fact, they are not already one and the same.
I have to be honest; I’ve never liked this carol much. Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of … More
I make no claim of being more correct than another in theology or orthodoxy, and in no way will I intend to belittle or judge anyone else’s theology, orthodoxy, or lack thereof.
Who I am today is still a work in progress. I think I’ve finally realized I will always be in progress, and accepting that is freeing me to sit at my laptop and tell you (and myself) where I’ve been and where I am, even if that means admitting I DON’T HAVE IT ALL FIGURED OUT.