This Must Be…

this must be
it feels
when the hard
shell breaks wide
open and
insides become
skin—when what
was hidden strains
toward light.
this must be
it feels
to be a star
on fire—burn
from the inside
out and shine
for miles and
this must be
it feels
to be rock
hewn into form,
given a face
with edges
away, rough places
broken and blasted
broken shell
star on fire
stone-hewed heart…
this is what it is like
to love.

Written for One Shot Wednesday, a community poetry project by One Stop Poetry. Drop in on some great poetry over there today.

Bended Tree: Poem

bended tree—
with twiggy fingers
trailing along crust
of snow…can you
bear the weight? lacy
tendrils of frost nip
at your ankles and
this heavy wreath of
crystalline drips
from your crown. How
do you stand winter’s
icy blast–folded under
so? your aged limbs,
a scroll, creased in upon
bowed body and tied
down. do you pray?
do you stare directly
into the sun–this
divagating philter in
which you beek? await
the liberating thaw…
then you will arch your
back in piquant awakening
and reach once more
for brumal skies.

This poem is in honor of One Shot Wednesday over at One Stop Poetry…and the recent snows we have received, of course. Head over to One Stop for some more verse–it will warm you up inside!

Revelation Song

a robe of
sunlight and
the moon under
my feet. twelve stars are
the crown on my head. what

is a girl to do
when the red dragon
waits to devour all that
she births? seven hungry mouths
open wide to steal the fruit of my womb.
flee to the desert and hide among the dunes; to the

secret place. he
breathes water round
my ankles—a great tsunami
of fear and hate but the earth opens
its kind mouth and swallows the torrent
that springs from forked tongue and I am yet

safe. I know the end of
the story. stars fall like fire
from the sky and the garment sun
is darkened. but we wear shining robes–
live with the Light inside of us, and our labor
pains have not been in vain. slow, we pilgrim through

this life—this inchoate
journey…a tristful one; bricolage
of lashed together sorrows and diaphanous
joys…until the elegy is spoken and life springs
forth from rocky crags. Hold me up, my friend. Do
not let your hands fall away from me. I am in need of your Light.

I read about the woman clothed in the sun, and I thought it was a beautiful, terrible, wonderful story so I told him about it as I tucked him in.

I think we are the woman, I told him in the dark. And the devil tries to steal everything we birth for the Kingdom of God. 

That’s weird, he said.

But it says right there–he doesn’t succeed. The woman is saved, and her son is snatched up to the Throne. 

He was silent.

What if, I said, my breath stealing the silence from the night. What if we all lived like we believed it? The end of the story? We have already won. What if we lived like we believe that?

Still, the quiet. He reached over and took my hand under the blanket.

 I love you, Mom, he said.

What if?

This week I’m sharing poetry with the community at One Stop Poetry for One Shot Wednesday. Join us? Find out more about it here.