“God is love,”

the Scriptures say.

But “God is spirit”

and his body is not present with me,

only his intangible soul.

I cannot touch or hear or see

and he says I am blessed for believing anyway.

But I long for the animal comfort

of a heartbeat beneath my ear,

an arm around my shoulder, holding me up.

Or to hear affirmations, declarations of faithfulness,

whispered, murmured, spoken aloud.

Not just pages of red letters,

not just tears blurring an empty ceiling,

not just crying out with no reply.

The glass is dim, the mirror dark,

and all I have is a promise,

not yet attained.

I cannot touch or hear or see

but this present distance must suffice for me.

NPWM Day 24: Between My Mind and Heart

I am afraid I’ve ripped a tear

between my mind and heart.

I’m not so good at sewing.

I don’t know where to start.

The ragged threads are all exposed.

The flaw is plain to see.

I must confess, I’ve made a mess

out of this tapestry.

I don’t think I can fix this.

I need a steady hand

to come and stitch my brokenness

without a reprimand.

I don’t need you to tell me

I’ve ripped myself apart.

I feel it every moment

between my mind and heart.


NPWM Day 12: Glass

One withering look from you,

and I am glass.

One sharp word,

and I am fractured.

Who are you

to have such power?

To reduce me to rubble

with a glance?

And who am I

to be so overcome?

There was no exact instant

when I gave myself over,

but a slow series of moments,

binding myself to you,

and even now, I cannot regret it.

Even now, fragmented and failing,

I cannot.


NPWM Day 10: Broken

Something broke inside me
as I sat on that couch
in the dark
and you stood in the doorway,
light behind you
so I couldn’t make out your face

Something broke in me
and I’m not sure it’s fixed yet
I asked you not to leave
And you hesitated
hand on the latch
You stayed, but we were still broken
and words wouldn’t come to fix us

You stayed, until you finally left
and the tension was a wall between us
that kept my arms from wrapping around you
and kept your eyes from mine
You left, and the darkness stayed with me on the couch
And it wasn’t until days later
that I felt it, sharp and ragged,
even though we were fine
And I was afraid, because
that broken part inside me
didn’t just mend on its own this time