Conversion Experience

Can I burrow in these cracks?

Watching but unseen

while time, a broken music box, plays on

and out



the ballerina trapped and spinning.

And I’ll fold you into me into you

to taste each other’s pain

touch brokenness

this heart

those veins

hands that know how to pray

made heavy by the weight of “I”.

While I teeter on succumb

Lying bloodied and broken

crushed into the sidewalk

with flecks of God floating in the air

settling, cool

upon my face.



The sun peers over the verdant hills
stretching its shining fingers out in all directions
Scattering the stale, dark night
Bringing a fresh light to the dawn
And somewhere, beneath the frosty soil, a bud responds
pushing through all odds
To break the crusty surface and find the golden rays.
And, lo, its fragile skin unfolds

Time slows on its tracks

And all the world gives pause although we know not why
Sending a shiver through Death
While the Angels bow in wonder
To see that shining, brilliant thing
contained within the bud.
Here is our deliverance come
to spread its light upon the earth
And rent asunder the outcome of that great mistake
that cast humanity into the grave
And severed a sacred bond –
Chaining mankind to the linear track
Where once we stood outside of time
Now chasing fleeting whispers from the garden
Dying whispers from the trees
With leaves that fall like snow and tears
silently whispering what we thought would never be again.
And, lo, the fragile skin takes shape
Radiant cell on radiant cell
The heart begins to chime in tune with hers
that humble servant whose faith renewed our hope
And cast a number on the days of despair.
So here is our salvation come
Within that fragile, faithful bud
that pushed against the cold, hard crust of death
To bring this light into the world
And thaw the frozen hopes of humankind

For my Brother

Feathers floating, feathers low to the ground – touching but not touching
October and rain and the smell of bugs and grass on our hands
The weeds in our eyes and hair
grass angels
your captain’s bed
The barrel with its wheels burning in the dark
The smell of Christmas all pine and spice and chocolate and you standing over me in the early morning
“santa came, santa is here” with your hair sticking up and your eyes shining, sparkling like two fresh stars
us running, laughing, all mischief.
The sandpapery surface of your skateboard and the rhythm of its wheels on the squares of sidewalk
The cold concrete on my palms
Your tears and mine when dad left
When dad came back
When you left
When you came back
Your son who has your eyes
The sound of his voice when spaghetti-o’s glide down his throat, the tinkling of little fairy bells.
How strange to hear him call you “daddy.”

And when did you surrender? And who was there in that very moment when hope left you? Watching, as one by one, the flickers in your eyes winked out.
To see you spinning, falling into those unreachable crevices where despair took hold and made you invisible to us.
Unraveling in a sloppy series of circles.
A downward spiral. That devious indulgence that embraced the pain of life, the beauty of life, and sucked away the Truth with an alluring hoax – a dull, sweet apathy.
Changing the shades of your life to sepias that fade…fade…
So that I have to look hard to see you.
And if I could but reach you. If I could but crawl down deep to where you are, under all those layers of browns and grays, I would grab you and shake out the horror of lovelessness
Pointing you to those inner reaches of the soul – those folds within folds – where He has always been.
Waiting until your ears were tuned and you could hear the whispers that were present all along. My words gathering with His –
You are loved
You are beloved.