Cross Words {a poem}

There is an altar here– facing the supply cubbie flanked by the printer (bedecked with Post-it notes), computer at my alternate elbow. Stray crackers sit open next to the pen and paper and glasses, mid-snack, abandoned. Paper, tape, scissors stapler–all adorn this secular cum sacred space. How so? I folded my hands  in prayer and…

I wanted to write like Annie Dillard away alone aware– not here in the middle of this  city/suburbs life. Leave the concrete and multiplying cars with their inhuman noises, seek a vista, a vale of color and light, to inspire and bring forth words like a flowing brook across quiet pebbles. But I’m here in…

I wish I could collectthe light, landing its shadowson this page as it creepsever brighter through the gray. Pour it out to wash my heart,salve the wound of thispresent heaviness, the sighsthat never end. Hold it lightly aloft, prayingno sharp wind orquiet, steady breezesnuff it out, for weneed it so Father, carry us,ferry us through…

There’s a lot one can say      about the power of being       quiet (yes, I see the irony). When listening forefronts the mind      other senses muscle their       way into place (the ears above      all) take in the not-words      simply song, hum and tone  …

Summertime is either noisy busy, with houses full of now-at-home children and the moms who want to make the most of the days, or, well….just plain busy. God is in all of it–the kidsounds and joy–and in the quiet, when we can coax it out of our day. Here are some shhhhhh…..thoughts for finding the…