I carry my dreams with me
Into the pale and quiet of morning
I carry the sound of coffee
And the smell of sleep-warmed sheets,
Birdsong and traffic noise
Into the pale and clamoring morning.
I carry bright dreams and sharp-edged rush,
And I lay them down-
In that breath,
That narrow space
That separates me from
That holds the voice of holiness
And calls me to prayer.
- I write, mostly to keep my head from exploding. It threatens to do that a lot. My blog is the pixelated version of all the voices in my head. I tend to dive into what connects me to God, my community, my family and my doubt. I do a lot of searching, not as much finding. I’m good with that. I have learned, finally, to live comfortably in the gray. In the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy.