Sanballat steadies the ladder without complaint While I pry at the rotted eaves and soffits framing my bungalow. This deserved my attention much earlier, like other matters I’ve neglected: My character and who I am becoming. Sanballat steadies the ladder and salutes procrastination’s potency.   I...

Sitting atop a tree limb, Peering down, I pray. There’s a preacher in town. Some say he’s a Messiah. I just want to see him. Humiliated on my perch. No better than a raven. A short man. Hardly taller than a child. Searching for an answer. My life is a paradox. My name means “pure and...

Somewhere in March I stumbled upon a call for poetry “This is my Story” and knew that I needed to participate. I resonated with the need to share our stories and lessons learned along the journey of faith.  I assumed my submissions would fall by the wayside like most other efforts, but I was pleased...

A meditation in poem on Good Friday (Matthew 27, Luke 23). The morning came before sleep, My eyes held open in hazy fear, Body tense, and spirit quenched, Fists holding tightly to nothing, As if time could be restrained in the palm of my hand. Death was in the air, and coming for me. My sentence ringing...

Illustration by Jeff Gill Death is a farmer who rises before dawn and eats the same plate of eggs and bacon And drinks bitter coffee from the same ceramic mug that his son bought him when he was in the first grade, just before he joined the Army. The farmer grabs his faded cap and ambles to the...

The sun was dying away they had all gone by then my day’s work done the Jordan stilled. I shook myself dry a final time that’s when the stones awoke with echoes they’d pocketed all day - repent! repent! repent! Another man might think himself crazy in that moment but not me, not the...

Walking away from a life changing moment how can I obey him “Go to the priests,” he said this man Jesus touched me I begged and pleaded “If you are willing . . .” I heard that he might help with little expectation as I approached he looked at me and saw me for the first time in...

Her note held no regret, just explanation: The wind. I could no longer stand the wind. Our union stood three years, survivors lashed together living bent against the onslaught. But she finally cut loose. I do not blame her, she did not grow up under the wind. The postcard came months later, sent from...

He approaches on the horizon My heart pounds with anticipation The son whom I have loved and lost Now, in my sight Never stray again, my son What has he endured? Covered in filth Oh, the debauchery! If only he knew How much I love, my son How I have suffered Endless nights Torch lit, watching, waiting,...

Like the evening summer sun, my bronzed hands and forearms gently fade and pale. We both sense it, the sun and I. It’s fine. It’s time. We could rage against the dying, as some are prone to do, but why? Old John Donne believed it’s always autumn in heaven, no buds or flowers, only fruit fully ripe. I...