These poems are my own.
Mostly written while the world was sleeping.
three
a simple song on the night of another friend’s passing — this world has become too much to bear, even our lord he was prone to despair, my god my god why have you forsaken me, i thought there is…
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“Down”
One morning in September, I found myself sitting in a swivel chair on the fourth floor with about twenty people. A mandatory training given by our newly appointed “leader.” From my seat, I could see the ground outside where people…
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take away (this eclipse)
A simple song written the night after our friend Luke Hollinger passed away. — It’s so crowded, without you here / This empty room, and all my fear, I’m not afraid, that God’s not real / But that he saw…
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The Elements
This post is part 4 in a 7 part series of reflections as I turn 25 years old. I’m convinced that to be human is to struggle and to struggle with God. This series serves to honor the difficult questions.…
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objeción
nothing is static as a matter of fact. but the world is a hard and strange place that’s been chosen for us to live in. nothing is static, no full stop, but we pretend it is, just to stay alive.…
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Three (Stanzas of Haiku)
I’ve decided to write haikus this year to help me process things (like Ricky Baker in Hunt for the Wilderpeople). A haiku is a form of poetry which originated in Japan. Haikus typically contain three lines of poetry; the first…
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“Breakfast”
a short poem written from my office chair, about sitting in booths. *photo by Mary E. Dienner.
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Heroes
8-7-20 12:26 p.m. Phoenix, AZ Heroes We are endlessly the heroes of our stories, It doesn’t seem to matter how tired We must be getting, or who we’re fighting, We’ve “fought a million battles, never lost a one,” * We…
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“boy on a hill”
in the park sat a boy atop a hill watching Phoenix clouds and declaring expectantly that he was waiting for the first drop of rain to trip and fall, aren’t we all. *photo by Aleisha Boley-Bear
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across america
— We went, Across the green hills of Alabama to a breakfast in Birmingham, On the red roads of Mississippi saw the house of Elvis in Tupelo, Skirted the corner of Tenessee and over the river at Memphis, Through the…
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(another) doxology
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“hot water”
heated water, i’ve deemed priceless, shower, tea, oatmeal, and steam, rising up off the lake, and over the concrete bridge i cross on my long commute, during which i try to decide, what things are truly valuable; hot water, —
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holes
Tonight, I’m gonna get on an eastbound airplane and go back home. Aleisha, Isaiah, and I were slated to be camp counselors with Mike next week at the ministry where he’s serving for a year. That was yesterday morning. Yesterday…
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a poem for the prophets
In two of the classes I’m enrolled in, I am subjected to weekly, online discussions in the class forums. It’s a sort of underground where faceless accounts trade ideas down the lines of comment threads. Last week, a discussion topic…
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Communion
“Communion” They’re all coming up the aisle eagerly, Red dress, navy shirt, Blue blouse, black skirt, Sisters – brothers – saints – neighbors, — And the music plays: “I dare not trust the sweetest frame, But wholly trust in Jesus’…
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