In April (poem)

In April surprised by any old thing that should uproot itself and subvert the winter awakening to newness from sleep surprised each morning I, too, awake  words– thrown away by winds souls– slaughtered  by hatchets see—    but don’t see my heart left me—...

The Making (a poem)

The Making a poem by Prasanta Verma   Scattered, broken particles must be remade after life on earth snaps….   Read the rest of the poem here, at Evangelicals for Social Action   (image from...

Holy Week (Poems)

This Bread I Break By Dylan Thomas This bread I break was once the oat, This wine upon a foreign tree ‘Plunged in its fruit; Man in the day or wind at night Laid the crops low, broke the grape’s joy. Once in this wine the summer blood Knocked in the flesh that decked...

Dying of the Same

  DYING OF THE SAME I’m not quite sure what to do with this ache at times. I find emptiness facing me, like an abyss, and I feel as if I am staring into a black hole. I wish I could unwrap the years and re-do so many things. It’s not that I don’t take joy in...