because i can’t stop staring

wake with your words
being sung inside mu mind—
where are your accusers now?

what you told the woman
after hushing crowd placing
her before you, shall we

stone her as instructed
in Moses law? they are
pleading, Jesus: this

adulterer needs to
punished, there must
be justice! you catch

her eyes, others.
only fear speaks
with such haste.

in love, you
let the sinless

here cast
the first stone!
all heads lower,

slipping away
unheard. you
& your beloved

stand together,
maybe tears
hitting ground.

hands held
silently, before
you annonce,

i do not condemn
you, either—go
live unashamed.

was your adoration
alighting her heart,
as is mine?

This song on his on iTunes radio station for days. (there is another he sings after, that sounds like me i can’t get the question out of mind, because i’m pretty sure Jesus has been asking me the same one. except i think i’m waiting for someone to condemn me. but my crowd is all the voices in my head. and Jesus keeps whispering, i love you, keep going. i’ll handle all the fear trying to push you to ground. you are free to love me as I keep loving you.

and i am torn between tears and laughter.


No one understands
the knot my stomach constructs
when asked to complete tasks.

I hear each request:
change this.
Ask sister to pick up this.

The clock begins ticking back
seconds I have for my performance.
Applause congratulating meeting
audience expectations.

I want to do well enough
to be loved in the time frame
a human sets.

If I don’t live up,
I immediately condemn myself.
The letting down someone else,
a lack of caring enough.

I know this is crazy-
all these conditions I place upon myself.
Trying to carry out perfection
is so much work.

We are to bear crosses
when following Jesus.
He never said: carry yourselves
in your own strength. Work for love.

He said: You can do all things through Me who gives you strength,
love without fear of reproach, and
infinite rest in your weakness.

Jesus knows this knot,
hanging from the cross
with expectation from myself,
everyone else and Him.

Three nails pinned undeserved.
Dying for my new beginning.
I sit here wringing my hands,
failed expectation aching control
over me.

Let Go

We are sitting in a booth
on opposite sides,
colored red & white.
Kentucky Fried Chicken
separates us-

a seven piece bucket
full of a mixture,
two sides:
with mashed potatoes
& gravy.

There is laughter erupting
from my mouth,
so many hahas I can’t
keep track. I cover my lips
with my palm, to keep all
the goodness from spilling
over. My heart rejoicing.

I watch you throw
peace signs over your eyes,
mimicking the words,
moving to the beat.

There is no better moment
than watching you become
a child, innocence exampled
before me. In these moments,
I long to stay, bringing back
the child I forget I can be.


I wander out the window
at the green expanse before me.
The sky partially canopied
by tree branches.
Out stretched leaves reaching
to the heights of You, my king.

I speak of my fears,
Sun coming & going
with my breath.

I end with this:
our freedom doesn’t
come from the signatures
on The Declaration of Independence,
but Your bloodshed on the cross.

In You alone, we are truly free.

Tender Pulse

“You seem, I don’t know, sad-”
strings not native to my ear
echo a foreign land I’ve yet
Though I heard we tread
Heaven, our bodies have
not caught melodies
the soul splendors.

I cannot imagine a place
this entangled body becomes
weightless. I am afraid of higher
regions beyond what is presently
Oh–to dance these notes
spun in a garden scented
lavender & cheery blossom,
honeysuckle my palate’s joy-

Mother, it is a sorrow
I cannot convey,
only a silent pluck
at a dream musing
symphony for those who
have yet to hear the song-

Beginning & Ending: I Am Dust

Identity? I just want to make sure I heard you correctly,
because if you’re looking at me a cripple is what you will see.
Maybe that’s just me,
or what I let this world define me.

Either way, I’m not looking to Him who went before & died so that I might give
Him glory-
if I was seeing clearly, I might know this isn’t my story,
and still, I find myself asking for healing.
So I can be “just like everyone else”
Yes, I can see your eyes looking over at me, pitifully-

But I’m at war with my fault lines on my outside, compared to everyone’s seemingly perfect inner & outer parts of the body.

And I know we all struggle, waging war with a persistent Enemy,
but I can’t help myself from falling victim to the snake in the form of a mirror feeding me ripened lies.

Might as well call me Eve,
if I were any wiser, the tree of knowledge would still have the apple
and suffering wouldn’t be worth defining.

In the silence, covered in shame,
I hear a less than audible whisper:
only in weakness can Christ be displayed.

Though I maybe walking slow
I’m embracing the perfectly wobbly gift
A body, thought from pure love
intricately made.