Surrender Self

Take me on a journey,

please don’t let me fall-

take these ashy corners,

and damp cellar walls.

Walk with me the path,

free me from these chains;

grant me now a simple faith,

purge out all my stains.

Place in me a tender heart,

bearing fruit from you-

A joyous trust,

not that I must

but that is my desire-

surrender Self,

a holy health,

walk me through

the fire.

Broken Cisterns

Broken cisterns

are my comfort

Fog conceals

my winding road;

this ship has no port

nor can

carry on my load.

Bending low in my


tarrying in this

simple town

I am single in my nation

my walls are falling down.

Feed Me Hope

Talk to me,

gather your hope,

Sunbeams sowed,

In meadow rolls.

Talk to me for


Sing songs you sang

In your trial.

Let every word

Tell who I’m

supposed to be-

let living truth

now set me free.

Talk to me for


Talk to me.


Truth tears it’s clothing

Naked molecules, atoms

Marrow and vessel.

These elements are

disrobed, trembling, knees knocking

Blazed light rushing in.

Calling and Purpose

Stephanie's Ninth Suitcase

Tonight, I was reading a parable about the Kingdom of Heaven, in which the Master hires workers throughout the day. He enlists some in the morning, comes back later and hires some more, and then returns still later to employ a third group of workers.

But I stopped at a verse before I’d reached the conclusion of the parable:

“And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing. And he said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’

“They said to him, “Because no one has hired us…”

Matt. 20:6-7

For me, verse 7 really pointed to the idea of purpose. The master’s question infers that the men should be working.

The workers’ answer that no one has hired them. Their response is not one of passivity, but an understanding that, ultimately, they are not in control of whether or not they get hired.

View original post 379 more words


Counsel has it’s downfalls, reliance on man’s filtered sighings, and pursed lips.

Animation is the key, a sparkle in the eye a must can be mistaken as angel of light. God’s council only will stand.


Curled, claws sting exit blood, the life shreds of facial skin, tissue-raw, reddened welt back.

hefted wood splintered weight

yet no flinch,

cries still floating.


Fishing line on eyebrow


. Small, sensitive, single song died;

tears follow, follow, follow-til Christ sets you free.