Monday, March 11, 2013

matthew 6:28

Baby flower on my lap
See how you grow:
You neither labor
Nor spin, yet
No royal robes can rival
Your fresh beauty,
God-clothed --
My little lily of the field.

ode to pluto

Your whole life they told you
you were special,
you were part
of a bigger system,
worthy of styrofoam
ball status in the
school science project.
You had a name!
and then one day
you found out
all this time
you were really just
asteroid no. 134340.

Thursday, March 7, 2013


I feel the weight of you
on my chest
even when you are
not in my arms.
You watch me now,
eyes just learning
to follow an object
across your field of vision;
you will keep watching
all the way
through girlhood and
into the years
when your every move
is a question:
Who am I?
and later:
What does it mean
to be a woman?
and I hope:
What does it mean to be
a woman of God?
These things are coming
and even now
I feel their weight,
the weight of my part
in what your answers
(and questions)
might be.
And in this way
you make me a better me,
a better woman,
a better woman of God:
thank you.