ings doubt You showed Thomas scars for.

I listen as she sings

You will carry me through

the heartache this has caused

me—to turn away, turn in, carry

this inside and watch me cover up again.

You always know

how to pull out of

myself when my only

question rings: can I

truly trust You aren’t

going to pull away too when

I don’t give what You want?

God, I’ve changed so much

but this ache burns and br

This is brought to you by Ellie Holcomb’s new singles: I will carry you + Canyon + the prompt: she from five minute Friday.

I’m trying to make an attempt to come back to blogging on Fridays because I miss the challenging prompts, miss writing and the community blogging has brought me. I feel I’m prone to drop off the face of the earth again but this is an attempt to go back to what I know.

No back story or linking up. Just going to let the poems speak for awhile

Ask, Magnolia

Magnolia aches Son

inside her stamen—

today I am emptied

all dreams thought center,

she quietly admitted beside

a Jacaranda tree.

Don’t forgot His love, yellowed one.

Though you wither, remembering

elder you have lost, my heart is steadfastly

praying your soul know it is well.

Our Father took delight planting

us together on this spacious hill.

He said, I will go plant little flowers,

seedlings from my own heart.

She lowered her petals exasperated.

I’ve lost a grandmother,

knowing worrisome toil I let

sway my attention.

World or Father above?

Years sunshine, hail, snow,

rain, those roots upheld her.

Aged beauty kept by unseen hand,

leaving without goodbye after midnight.

Dust we come, dust we go

but if hope is a blindfold,

a solace, why does sun’s

burn bring no comfort

upon my sacrificial frame?

Her Idol Was Love

When they look her way,

I wonder what they say.

She’s too quiet.



Frozen in time.

I wonder if they know

she wants to laugh so freely.

Without care. Without worry.

Without fear she should be

improving something.

Pushing herself harder,

new heights.

Instead, she’ll hang her head,

stare at her shoes.

Dare herself never to come clean

about the secret she’s been keeping.

The one she whispers to God before

her eyelids flutter back to dream

I am pusillanimous. No

accolades can ever save me. Is this

why no one loves me?

A Prayer From Your Ungrateful Child

Joy looks softly, what’s wrong for real?

You upset because you complained?

You’re human, honey.

That’s not all, I say, my bottom lip

turning down any request I made

with myself to remain quiet, unheard.

My eyes rain truth only an ungrateful

child speaks fluidly.

I don’t want to go home.

I say this holding a chicken nugget

to my mouth, as answer comes

I never know how to take.

Enjoy the time you have now.

I can’t. I cry, looking straight ahead

at the empty seat. On the right,

someone rises with compassion

open wide enough to engulf all

sorrow I have grown accustomed to,

even before I allow You to quiet me.

My Friend, I can’t enjoy Your

company, without thought,

He’s going away. He’s leaving you


He doesn’t love you. Why approach

His thrown with such a ridiculous

request: I want more of You. No

tears stroking my face. No sighs

making a liar laugh at my distress

waiting for you to shine bright upon

my face. I want to enjoy You on

earth, before I remark how my time

is gone with color photos of my

youth. Show me, Jesus, seventy

times seven, how much You delight

in me, Your small, weak, and needy

child, asking joy to become

accepted rather than wept.

3 Course Dumbfounded

I unplug my headphones.
I tap the number.
Press CALL.
CANCEL looks more appeasing.

I listen to all options.
Customer representative
Press 9.

“How can I help you today?”
“Do you guys sell MacBook Airs?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Like I can come in and buy one?”
“Yes, you can.”
“Okay. Thank you.”

Did I really say that?
I don’t know.
When your stomach is on the verge of lurching unnecessary contents into your mouth,
anything is possible.

Hang up.

God, I sounded dumb.

A child says that.

You are.