poems.

There is more to this life than heaviness,so deep in my bones I can barely take another step.There is light.I’ve seen its glimmer through the fog.There is morning. There is hope. There is dawn.There is love.I see it in His nail-pierced hands.I do not understand it,I do not deserve it,but I see it.There is beauty …

I was not made for long, muggy days.Everywhere I look people are weary and worn.Is it the weather?Or is it the world?Sometimes its as if the clouds themselves are mourning.The rains come-and they weep, they weep, they weep.Today however, they don’t mourn.They just hang sluggishly in the sky.“What is your purpose?” I ask them.I ask …

life is changing fast.and I am scared.but this love between usis sprouting slow.and for that,I am grateful.I’m on a bumpy road,ever shifting,ever winding, but I think you’ll be there-at the end.

I’m sitting here watching my ceramic cup of coffee steam and billow before me and the sunlight of New England stream out onto wooden floors that are older than my great-great grandfather, the floors of a family run bakery, which is just down the street from where my brother works. I wonder what these floors …