Silken hands that touch my cheek

gloved and cold to the touch;

a trade-off never bargained for

when I loved this so much.


A man’s love isn’t-

“A perfect silky rose petal,

String of shimmered pearls;

A diamond ring,

A song you sing,

Or soft little curls…”

No, love is a fight,

Ugly beautiful thing.  

Snot on a t-shirt

From gushing tears;

Staying when you want to leave.

Quiet time together of nothing much.

More than a gentle touch

Where goosebumps slowly rise.

Words that are done

With a promise, 

Vows when it’s hard-

Truth when it hurts.

Love endures all the stark facts, 

And it’s flower remains with the roots deep in the heart.


Was the veil clipped from your face?

Boiling stars,

the purple, charcoal grey, flamed blue

fall into your eyes?

The self,


I am Someone,

see me go!

While those left behind

stare in bafflement.

Border Saint

Slog along the borders,

Don’t enter all the fight;

call yourself a neutral,

give God a little slight.

Slog along with rhythms, singing

with your chains;

the ones that keep you moving-

others are to blame!

Come, He’s gently calling

for you to turn around.

His weight is so much lighter,

your lips will have a song.

Please don’t resist your Savior,

He loves you all the way;

your labors through the blackened light

will slowly fall away.


Duller sheen than

glittery veneers.

Softly rise,


an opal

in the hollow of a collarbone.

High collar torn away

to reveal it’s glory;

not necessary to be onyx.

Sometimes hidden heartbeats

stay hidden.

He’s Calling

Let out your last breath,

commitment heart rending;

love to your final exhaling.

Blending in air elements-



He rose again,

reached for us;

His wounds heal.

Firm, gentle touch

to the shoulder

our backs turned

coaxed to turn around;

we wouldn’t.

Warm touch of your compassion

in scars;

hard palms make my wounded


recoil and weep.