Poem on The Aspergian

I always find great articles over on The Aspergian, so I am super excited to share a piece of my own there. Click Here to Read

The Cross is More than a Whisper

I wrote this poem after visiting Israel/Palestine. That trip forever changed how I view war and our world. However, a poem uses specificity to speak to universality. These words came from the Middle East but speak to all injustice, whether across the ocean in an ancient desert, or a few miles away in Memphis, Tennessee or…

I Ride Horses When I’m Sleeping

In between book projects, this is something I like to do… take writing classes, read books on writing, and – most importantly – write something different. Last year, I took a free poetry writing class through Open Courses. Today, I reread the pieces I wrote during that class, and when I came across this one, I knew I had to share it.

Slow

I wake up slow, dreams lingering, whether good or dark or strange, they hold my arms and whisper. I wake up slow and stumble through routine, because routine is another kind of medication for me, an antidepressant that doesn’t come inside orange bottles. I have to want it. Breakfast. Meds. Reading something spiritual and then…

I Believe in Fan-Girling

When someone inspires you, you should tell them. Tell them face-to-face or write them a letter or send an email or skywrite it with an airplane above their house. I don’t care how you tell them. Just tell them. We need to know when we inspire one another.

Christmas Came Too Fast

In Bethlehem, we waited. We waited inside stone walls, surrounded by columns and ancient art. We waited, and we were hungry and tired and nothing was as we expected it to be. That day, in Bethlehem, my feet hurt, and I was distracted by the grey wall, so high, the wall that would keep Mary…

Beautiful

In honor of Mandy and Will tying the knot today, I’m posting the poem I wrote for them. And a photo of Mandy and me, snapped at her rehearsal dinner. I’ve known both Mandy and Will since they were in high school.  I’m amazed by them. They bless each other and bring joy. Having walked…

Sunday Poem: Chainsaw

This started as a Sunday Poem, but really it’s just the truth. My husband taught me something new just after the tornado ripped through Tupelo. He taught me something new I thought I knew, but I only sort of understood it as truth. Love shows up with a chainsaw. Love is not soft. It does…

We Build Churches

It started at the Church of Beatitudes. In my brain, that sermon is on a hillside in Galilee. There is a breeze from the lake in the distance. Jesus is talking, his sandals planted firm on grass and dirt. There are rocks. Some people sit on the rocks and some stand. And, yes, that hillside…