The Opposite of Mourners
- Rejoicing voices rose through my bedroom floor, so I couldn’t drift to sleep. What a glorious insomnia. I watched Jimmy Fallon on my phone until the voices slipped away. One of the celebrators had handed me a chocolates flavored peppermint in cellophane, and it is lying somewhere here in my bedroom. What I wouldn’t give to keep this crowd, and live in this occasion forever. My patchwork heart nags me to remember a Groom arrives.
Ten / Forty
- You are in my window, and I’m at my wit’s end, thank God, in reaching you. I wish I could see you, the all of yous, some who seem closer then my elbows, and others more remote than even my imagination. No, I know I have no excuse, and shame Him with every one of the 1300 for whom I justify away my silence, my absence, just like I let the Jerusalmites and Samaritans slip through my fingers like pistachio shells. And yet I hear God is reaching yous. I will never consider marrying from across the road of the Good Samaritan’s wounded man again, no matter the sparkle of his priestly sash
Growing in Faith, Falling in Love, and Other Strange Maybe-Decisions
- I almost forgot joy, or at least to wonder if this pleasure is it. I’m nearly always convinced.What I don’t know is like wet shorts. I want so much to find a secret garden here or there, but not if it has a secret monster.
I’m really hungry and I’m really tired. God is good. Thanks, ladies.
Amica Mea Stuff 