what i said was 'don't worry about it'
what i meant was 'i am still ripped all to hell inside but i can't tell you how i really feel because you can't do anything about it anyway'

what i said was 'it's okay'
what i meant was 'i feel an aching despair in my stomach every time i think about it...it's just something i have to live with until it quits hurting...'

time passes

what i said was 'i love you'
and it was what i meant with everything in me, and so i cried

i cannot die
because there is grace

i only live
because there is grace

we are never without grace
we are only without knowing it

creator of my soul
and my spiritual home,
holy are you.
your living presence
and your love fill me
here on earth as there.
bless me today with the bread of your word.
forgive me as i forgive others and myself.
hold me fast, and never let me stray from your spirit.
for you have dominion and power over all of my life
forever
amen

coming on

a walk out front
and on down to the mailbox
is a wild distraction,
an attack on the sensibilities...
gaudy purples and silly yellows--
a ladybanksia and two redbuds
observing my habits,
commenting on my clothes:
don't you think she's wanting
a little more color? some flounce?
doesn't she have better things to do
than all this gad-abouting
and fetching noisy circulars
and long white envelopes
wanting more money...
she should sit in the chair out there
under the branches of tiny green leaves
and wonder at things...
the thousand crawling things...
and the troublemakings of bluebonnets--
pushing over the paintbrush,
meddling in the buttercups,
--on a day like this...
on a day like this before summer takes over--
on a day like this when the sky is so high
and the air is sparkly with possibilities
and everything is 'fine as frog's hair...

be of my heart
a color unwashed
the deepest hue
of love's risk

be of my heart
the articulation of grace
a morning of clear rain
after a night of silence

the silence i hold with you
is silken with desire
it slips around the edges of my mind
it smiles from distant thoughts
it aches of it's own wanting...

the silence i hold with you
is the breath before the dance

on the beach at perdido key

day one
settling in this side of the dunes
getting in touch with my inner fishy...
and when i find it, i will not be at this desk
parsing the qualities of water and sand
rhapsodizing cerulean and celadon and sugar...
i will be there

day two
....got tail?