#57

Confession is a lost art
in our churches and our lives.
We hide behind our filters
on our screens and with our lies.
The struggle for authenticity
infects our bodies, souls and minds.
Until we have fooled our very selves
by blurry, ragged lines.

#56

*a Christmas poem*

I'm from blue tarps and duct tape
I'm from secret mountain views, for those who knew to see through the clouds
I'm from filling the bath tub, bracing for the power to go out
I'm from plotting a secret escape to unwrap presents early
I'm from waxy Advent chocolate and colored pencil ornaments
I'm from real wax candlelight at the Silverdale on the Bay hotel
I'm from late night Ramen gifting and letters in the stockings
I'm from both sides of the family and so much, so much talking

I'm from glowstick parties with fake snow falling down
Boldly, I'm from Heaven now,
Wrapped, no swaddled, in love

#55

Stuck in trauma
came the verdict.
Reliving
moments trying to steal life
or life stolen.
Unable
to breathe
to calm
to escape
or move on.
Reacting
to compensate for
the moments I couldn't react.

#54

We built a crib
And bought a car seat
Thinking they were for someone
Needing a home for a weekend.

But we also thought
That you would use them, too.

Maybe we will still get
To open our home to a
Baby needing snuggles,
But we won't get to hold you.

So many feelings
Swirl and storm
As we come to term
With you never being born.

#53

How do you get ready
for a world that doesn't exist
but could?

What do you to do prepare
instead of
react?

How many tonights
turn into tomorrows
and next weeks
and next years?

Why do we believe
in plans
anymore?

#52

I hope you linger like your Dad
Staying content in the face of trouble.
I hope you wait a little longer
And grow even stronger
To face the world we know today.
I know you will shape the world you live in every day after.

I hope you grow in grace and truth,
Learning things we can't teach you perfectly.
I hope you choose to love
And deeply forgive
To know and share the Father's will.
I know you are loved so deeply.

#51

Whether it was the act of traveling
Or the friendly context of waiting together for the lights to return,
Voice returns to my writersoul.

Instead of reaching for a camera,
I dig deep within the language region of my brain
To capture each moment.

Selecting English phrases that explain a culture
Challenges, but does not frustrate.

There are many voices,
and I am the active voice in my future.