About Me

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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.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

A Handful of Stones

You were laid, just so, in the damp heat and cicada song
of summer. Now, so unlike your sleep, always tangled and damp, there is precision in your rest. Yet today there is nothing stately in our shared unrest: all this felled granite - a suddenness of violence; a riot of grey. I meant to visit you sooner, to bring you a handful of stones. I meant to grieve more softly, but the chaos has made my grief razor sharp again. Now there is no place to leave my offerings.