Courtney Keen is learning how to be a Christian in her love-hate relationship with New York City. She is abnormally tall, enamored by ostriches, and cites “hope” as her gasoline.
I’m not always lonely
When I am alone
I’m not always within these walls
When I feel at home
It’s the scattered seconds of joy
That get you through the day
It’s the subtle signs of progress
That keep me on my way
You have to start somewhere
Risk, risk, then reward
Scared to tears then terrified
It’s... December 30th, 2012 | Poetry | Read More
He asked me how old I was
When my parents got divorced.
Riding my bicycle around the driveway,
I didn’t say what I was doing
When they called me inside to break the news.
In the foyer,
Or where I stood when they stooped down,
To tell me.
Or what I remember feeling.
He... December 2nd, 2012 | Poetry | Read More
It’s 4 a.m. in a town unknown.
She stumbles down the street all alone,
Unaware of the angels walking her home.
The boys all thought she was very pretty,
Grasping for distractions in this foreign city.
But her Father, he sees her from a long way away.
He knows how later she’ll be ashamed of this day.
It’s... November 10th, 2012 | Poetry | Read More
The morning subway ride into Manhattan is usually silent. Commuters sit and stand bleary-eyed with their headphones on and books and newspapers in-hand, clutching cups of coffee like their firstborn child. But today, the sea of adults in black and grey was disrupted by a little boy in a yellow... May 10th, 2012 | Essays, Featured | Read More
“Christ Follower,” “Under the Mercy,” “Jesus Loves Me,” “Nothing but the blood of Jesus,” “To be alone with me he went up on a tree,” “Gospelicious.”
All of these descriptions belong to various Facebook friends of mine who I know to be Christians…though they prefer... May 4th, 2012 | Essays, Featured | Read More