What I can say
here on this rocking chair,
on this porch, worn by summer heat
You haven’t heard?
Before it breaks my heart,
I’ll speak plainly.
I’ve watched people raise Hell
as if they have the highest privilege
cutting others down with not
Do you know anyone who did that?
He did that.
She did, too.
It’s all about her.
I won’t say I haven’t judged,
still catch myself on hardest days
recalling to memory a home
waiting with doors cast wide.
Someone’s smile beaming,
running toward me with sweetest
Days have passed
In laughter’s end,
where I have found myself
mentally whispering: thank you.
I never knew in this desert land,
You’d stay true on Your promise.
I’ll keep your heart young, darling.
I have forgotten what a child does
not lack: faith in Santa Claus.
That wasn’t me.
When I was young,
I would scream, crying for my mother to come wrap me up again.
Take me off his lap.
His beard & ho ho ho
scared me most of all.
No one in the world
can be that joyful
all the time.
That year I found out
my parents were him,
I must have forgot you.
The fear came every Christmas,
still comes to this day.
I make up scenarios that night.
You’ll come down and say:
It’s time to go now.
I cower, crying: I’m not ready!
You take me anyway.
It’s not true, I know.
Rewriting the story of Your little girl,
knowing the death grip, longing
all along she’d save part of herself.
Finding the hard way home
becoming where all of You began.