Luke 8: 19-39

The whole town is astir, and in the air

a murmur, awe, and wide eyes all around.

We were all shut in tight against the pound

of wind and rain and lightning everywhere.

It wasn’t the tempest’s rage that makes us stare

in wonder – that was natural – but the sound

of sudden silence, perfect and profound

as if in answer to a sailor’s prayer.

Over the lake, the sunrise glories warm

the water and earth, and we can hear a cry

whimper from near the tombs. He is awake.

Our herd of pigs, led out after the storm,

rolls in the mud under a clear blue sky.

And there’s a boat just landing on the lake.



Part One of a two-part series on my weight-loss journey. Inspired by seeing a photo of myself from 50 lbs ago…
Dec. 12, 2011

The shock. My tired eyes, ballooning coat,
an obese body fashion could not hide
from gentlemen or cameras, and a throat
obscured by a double chin. I almost cried.
What does this to a woman? Just a small
gland messing up metabolism. Time
will tack the pounds on pounds if she eats at all
’til she looks as if she’s thrown away her prime.
The anger. The relief – I’m al-most done
with all this hard work chiseling back to the me
who was always there and always seen by One
who formed the hidden promise I couldn’t see.
This photograph reminds me where I’ve been.
God, may I never be trapped in that again.

What of These Dreams

A poem from 2006. I’ve been over this person for a while, but the second stanza still sometimes hits home.


What of these dreams:

a house on a hill,

grey/white brick with a beautiful red door,

you beside me evermore,

family of our own sprung out of dust,

and grown on trust?


What of these dreams?

I sit at the table

and read over my food

in a lonely mood,

no one to ask me, “Love, how was your day?”

Time ticks away.


What of these dreams:

to hold someone’s hand

(and whose do I wish for but yours?),

know someone adores,

seeing the wealth inside these eyes,

to let love arise?


What of these dreams:

further up and further in,

endless exploring of love’s charms,

done with alarms,

freely seeking our God together,

A grand endeavor?


What of these dreams?

I fear you will pass by,

marry her without a glance at me,

and let me be,

never knowing what you’ve left behind,

a heart resigned.