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.


Every Toiling Inch 

God, it has to be yours,Every toiling inch!

Father! I am so tired

of laboring just to feel life

fall through my aging fingers.

Christ! let me walk on!

I fall gnarled and weary

to a beaten ground!

God! Let me be love and let

love become me!

And alas! Father! Father!

Do not take love away!

Lover of my soul,

help me to give You

every toiling inch!

And may every toiling inch

give You to me!

Coffee on 7th

The coffee shop was visited by two faces

Unsure of their places

in this stolen world.
The only thing they were sure of

is that coffee or tea

could not let them see

past the decades of time.
They sipped from paper cups,

briefly caught up on life.

Stilled time in the other’s eye.

And fell silent in their stirring.

( writing 101, day 11, coffee shop prompt)