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525,600 minutes

11/29/2012

question

she asked a question
that was met with complete silence
speechlessness

it was a question
that begins to unravel
backwards
leaving spaciousness
for knitting up forward again

before the question
the garment fit comfortably
after
it is outdated
misshapen

of good service
until the question
still hanging
in the stillness
plucked at
one loosened thread

pb 2011
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golden platters

11/18/2012

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VIII.

how will I speak Your name

I will gather up
the bounty of my garden
and the ripe grains of the fields
I will fill my small kitchen
with smells of spice and sweetness

I will call in my children
and my neighbors
and beggars from the street

and we shall feast

from untying the web, "praise, lamentation, and praise"
pb 2011
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holy encounter

11/4/2012

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The Sentinel

it is neither our girth nor our height
nor the straight and rigid backbone
that equips us to meet
the rhythms of the seasons
the pummel of hailstones
the weight of many thousand leaves
the forces of the gales
the lightning strikes
summer’s fever
and winter’s endless frigid shadows

it is our capacity to sink deep roots
that reach for sustenance
in hidden waters
our willingness to be molded and shaped
by forces of the seasons
to be bent and gnarled
to stretch beyond our tiny beginnings
into many fingered branches
to lean, to sigh
to flourish and to rest

it is in our brokenness
with our scars scabbed over by time
that we become
creatures of infinite beauty
strong
trustworthy
generous of spirit
existing only to be
of service
and of love

-pb 2009

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