Solved

Solved   Lost variables in a vortex of unknowns Seeking an answer, a solution Seeking our identity Seeking to be known… What is the value of our unknown? More or less? Equal to, greater than, or less than? We’re looking for our value Hoping to be plugged in Somewhere And to make sense Of this… More Solved

An {Old} Prayer

On this day, the first day of Spring, I remember God’s faithfulness. After a cold winter, signs of spring are bursting forth. Spring reminds me that in a troubled world, God’s word is trustworthy.  Amidst uncertainties in the future, whether it be politically, financially, physically, etc., God is faithful. When friends, acquaintances, family, strangers, etc.,… More An {Old} Prayer

A Thousand Twilights

A Thousand Twilights A thousand drums thundered across the sky dropping wedges, cutting time in sharp divides– impassable mountain range Sometimes I hear music— wind-songs, tree-speak, leaf-whispers of ancient days a thousand twilights hide me in shades of evergreen In deep shadows I catch quivering tree-songs in my hands— flowers that only bloom at midnight I… More A Thousand Twilights

The Gap

  The Gap   Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save,     nor his ear too dull to hear. Isaiah 59:1 (NIV)   In 1512, Michelangelo finished painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, now regarded as one of the world’s most famous art masterpieces. One particular scene, called “The Creation of Adam”, depicts Adam… More The Gap

Country Balm

Country Balm   An amber glow settles, a silver mist hovers An awakening, from one serenity to the next A new morn continues its ascent   A hum of crickets cracks the silence I follow a trail of invisible prints In soft, malleable soil   What is the distance between footsteps in this field? A… More Country Balm

Steep Shoulders

Steep Shoulders   You are the moon, the white glow Bouncing off the wet pavement You are red streaks of light shimmering on the road Your heartbeat sets the rhythm Keeps pace with an electric night   I can dodge shadows with the receding sun Because you are a million flames Like old wax candles… More Steep Shoulders

How a Fraction of a Second Counts

In about six months, millions of folk on planet Earth will be tuned into the Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Millions will be engaged in watching this gathering of the world’s top-notch athletes who demonstrate incredible skill, strength, and tenacity. One thing I recall about watching the Olympics is how close the top winners’ times… More How a Fraction of a Second Counts

Alive and Active

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. ~Hebrews 4:12   I love this verse! It reminds me of the power of the word of God. God’s word is… More Alive and Active

Assignment: Reporter

My time as a reporter was as brief as a rookie reporter’s first article: it lasted only a summer, somewhere in the middle of my college years. I was actually considering changing my major to journalism, which is what led to the internship.  But there was one problem:  the newspaper in my hometown area where… More Assignment: Reporter

Writer? Who, Me?

  I remember when I first identified myself as a writer. Or rather, when someone else identified me as one. I was in 7th grade. My English teacher asked to speak to me after class. I made good grades. Usually never any trouble. The model student.  What could this be about? Mrs. Batey asked me… More Writer? Who, Me?

Diaspora

Diaspora   Close eyes Weaver knits wind tails Dreammaker ignites fire Reach, catch a tail, flipping fast, skim invisible air Grab this one or that— tail of another fantastic— Soar through days, ripple like waves surge through  moments twirl through realizations A trail blazes, sears, splits sky— fills the deep with words dared spoken— The… More Diaspora

When Home

When Home     It isn’t simply the camellias or dogwoods that draw me home but a string that pulls, pushes Appalachia aside and drags me under the Chattahoochee with the catfish.   I resurface in the creek down the street, catch my breath on a blanket of pine needles on banks of sticky red… More When Home