Anointing Tangled Hair

I remember when your mother braided my tangled hair.
I wanted my hair to look                                       just like yours,

like golden hay from the summer field.

The same hay that I watched your     little horse chew on endlessly by the pond.

I know that your mother tried               her best to make my hair                      look like a loved bird nest.

But I was not her child.

The love did not pour out upon my head and I could feel her distance as she wished that my hair were cleaner.

These days I find myself searching  for the heads of  motherless children.

 I will braid their hair like summer hay. 

And pray that Love anoints those heads.


Rattling Backslider 

The bones know
they are naked

when the soul falls

down from them like 

a heavy quilt.
They know 

panic should set in

when the heart takes its

bow and whispers 

The bones know 

they are useless

when muscle and sinew

require nothing more 

of movement.
They know 

the marrow is gone

when they hear 

the rattlings caused by wind

against their frame.
The bones know 

when death is coming to

sing through their hollow

like funeral pipes. 
And my bones know

that they were created

from dust.


Thank you to for such a thoughtful gesture. Oba keeps me interested in her blog with her interesting and informative writing. I love the multicultural interests that she writes about.. AND she’s a singer! Go check out her stuff! 

About me ( this is required so bear with me)

Privileged Labor nurse 

Couldn’t live without music

play the Piano with any spare time

A “wanna be” runner (trust me.. I try)
Love to hike and travel 

I have a nagging suspicion that Christ is in my corner.. Even when I’m not in His. 

I nominate these versatile and inspiring bloggers for the Blogger Recognition Award:

Again, thank you Oba @

The Coldest Night

You came softly to my door.You didn’t knock 

before I opened it quietly, knowing

your breath was close. 

I forced my own breath

when I saw your eyes. 

It was dark and raining. 

Stars would not shine 

upon war torn lovers. 

I wanted nothing more than 

to pull you into my warmth,

Into my arms that ache for you.

But the candle in my window 

flickered when I touched your face. 

I knew you couldn’t come in. 

So I stood beside you in the

dark and damp and never said a word.