my love is like a pomegranate, seeds ripped from inner skin staining fingers ruby red, forbidden fruit of sin my love is like an orange, most bright of citrus prizes fragrant walls guard sweetest flesh, served in perfect slices my love is a commodity, fruit found in any aisle it rots if its left out…

Upon a visit to The Great Tapestry of Scotland in Galashiels, I was overcome by the immense beauty and presence of women in every single panel that caught my eye, even if they were doing the most mundane things. Embroidering, washing, waulking, healing, smiling, mourning. History isn’t history without all of that. Life givers, life…

my love makes me a wild animal, teeth bared at nature’s whim. feral and snarling, ugly and desperate, it tears me limb from limb. my love fills me like a fever, rotting fruit in heat of day. sickly sweet, the cloying scent masks the stench of decay. my love rusts me like a long lost…

Her face is poised and ever-sweet, full of grace and love. Her mantle frames her lovely smile; her hands point far above. Folded in such perfect prayer, a tear rolls down her cheek. Her Son adored, her Son abhored, and so much more beneath. Ne’er a sin her soul to stain, was her grace divine?…

Kind of a funny image- initially. The King of kings holding a trash bag while I empty cat litter into it?! What a weird idea. But it’s not, really. When Christ says He is with us always- till the end of time, it also means in mundane (and stinky) moments like this. We bring Him…

You’ll find me in the holler, maybe even past that. In a field in my boots and dress, hair bunched under my hat. Goats and chickens at my feet, geese and horses too. Reeds brush ‘gainst my calves, still wet with morning dew. You’ll find me in the holler, that’s where I’ll make my home.…

there’s something ’bout your arms round me that feeds me like i’m hungry you’ve loved me through my good and bad, my desperate and my ugly. i guess i’ll have to ask the Lord on that final day what i did to deserve my most perfect cliche. these words have all been said before, you…

it’s nice to be tethered to someone i love dearly. it’s good to feel safe and be safe in return. i love without condition and i am loved sincerely. i never have to fear the sting of vicious words that burn. this is a special thing, you know once in a blue moon. it all…

We run from something every day, It finds us even in the dark, A whispered plea is what I pray, My words in air create a spark, I run beneath the scorching sun, They watch me flee my monster, blue, I cannot beat the cocking gun, My feet they drag, my concrete shoes, My hecklers…