Stars lit my darkening soul.
A map of promise affixed over a sea of doubt.
God’s steady compass, commissioned above the rotating
gravity of churning experience.
Captaining my broken ship to the dock of possibility.
Morning will dawn and
I will spy the security of land.
Sucking in the stale air
of depression, regurgitating
regret day after day.
Throw open windows!
You break the seal of
our tomb.
Filtering the sunshine of unconditional love
through the curtains of our mourning soul.
Resurrecting the fresh fragrance
of hope.
Alerting our senses to the possibility of Spring.
Suicide snapped my soul,
Stripped bare flesh with
its strike. Shook out the fruits
of my labor.
Amid the screaming storm
of unnatural consequence, I became a
stump of misaligned
purpose. Expectations of motherhood
decomposed as the sun flowered once more,
and my neighbors shuddred off
memory of the horrific night, reaching
their branches to nurturing light, stronger.
Still, you watered my shocked roots in the daily habit
of your nurture. And my broken soul drank
in your presence as you walked amid your
mighty oaks. I begin to feel the tickling pleasure,
of sap-feeding life into what I thought dead. And
around my trunk sprung hundreds of tiny seedlings.
My broken body cradled new life.
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Devotionals post every Tuesday at 7 pm.
Poetry posts every Thursday at 7 pm.
Suicide a lie
Withdrawn from reality
Silver lining–hope.
Forgotten, I greeted you from the remembrances.
My home hollowed from wealth, ready to entertain kings and demons.
You crossed the unclean threshold of my grave, your royal robes billowing in the sea sworn breeze.
A crown, only seen by our eyes, testifies to us who you are.
Naked, we claw with rocks at vulnerable flesh, mutilating your earthly jewel.
We’ll make you unrecognizable too. Flesh out God.
Forsaken
Forsaken
I scream for
release from day and night horror. While they cried out to
remain fast.
I was a scarred lamb within, and
a roaring lion without.
Mighty Samson would not tame we beating beasts.
But You, the Son of God, entered my tomb and knocked
the breath out of me.
What man chained you commanded freed.
Clothed in righteousness, I now cling to you.
A demoniac commissioned to share the truth of your
love for mankind.
(Inspired by Mark 5)
Poetry is posted every Thursday at 7 pm
Podcast is posted every Monday at 10 am
Devotional is posted every Tuesday at 7 pm
Darkness drapes
 like a thick silence
smothering thought and action
until dawn’s cheeks pink and stretch new light.
Many of you know how much I adore Haiku, so I was excited to discover a new form called
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Your bones feel picked dry of hope,
yet still,
truth echoes in the souls you touch.
Poetry Posts every Thursday at 7 pmÂ
I hang fragile memories
on a fragrant tree, while Silent Night
sings lullabies of human
understanding. And I
wonder–What is Christmas
like in heaven?
Does the soft glow of windowed candles
flicker for us in prayer, while carolers
harmonize glory hymns to the
Holy One? Do angelic hosts gaze down
upon star topped heavens and
praise God for creation?
God, do you laugh deeply as you watch a soul
unwrap heaven like an eager child? Their eyes wide with
wonder as they experience first sounds, vibrant colors.
and run their fingers over the texture of your love.
Are we your present, your delight?
I deposit poems,
like pennies, into
the bank of your soul.
Crack open when
you need to splurge on hope.
The void of your presence
Presses hard into my thoughts today
Jumbling the jigsaw pieces
Within my fragilely framed reality.
How can I ever complete this puzzle
without you?
If you or a loved one are in immediate danger, call the National Suicide Lifeline at 988 or go to the website at https://988lifeline.org/