so let us praise God, not with
eyes lifted, praying at the heavens on sunday
but searching in the faces of
earthly others on monday...

not the easy ones, not the pretty ones,
but the hard, worn, everyday ugly ones

and find ourselves in Divine surprise...
reflecting the love we are made of

so the moon slides down the throat of a storm

here i sit with these reasons
for holding with tradition--
not least for the sheer beauty

of two thousand year old words...
 i don't even have to think
...believe and you're done with it,

snug in the bosom of the
family. just sit down, and
for God's sake don't rock the boat.

'get over it with all of these
questions about meaning and
data on life after death.

maybe even think about
taking up the ministry...
maybe 'could catch up on my sleep.

begotten not made

if we knew we came here
spiritual bodies templed in physical bodies
to learn the lessons of the virtues of the spirit
would it make a difference in the way we lived?
would we find purpose in suffering?
would it take the sting out
if we knew it was all to learn
and grow in the ways of grace?
listen:
you do not blow in the wind
like a seed willy nilly
to grow once and bloom once and die once
merely to throw off more seeds
for more souls to come...
no, you are born again and again and again
to find your own rich warm brown groundedness within
to grow stronger and more true in the opening of your soul
toward the bright yellow Sun of your eternal longing

i look at you

i look at you.
i have made promises
with my mouth and my hands,
and i have left the womb of safety
to love you.

it is not much to sacrifice.
of what good is a safe world,
securing the memories of
my dusty little life?
this love is a risk i choose to live with.

and where will i be when you die?

right here
holding the hand of your carcass
whispering 'safe journey, my love,
see you soon, my dear sweet love.'