you are my life in soft light,
love delivered seamlessly, ebullient
gratitude used correctly in the same life
sentence, righteousness arranged just right.
Grace, I hold to you. I look for you
in the winds. I claim you as color changes
in clear water that shimmers through my desperate
hands. I drink you in.
Please, Grace, work your magic and spin me
better than I actually ever am–first filter
like blue eyes that can only envision blue-white snow.
Turn what I despise into what I most love
so that I can understand the Great Father’s love
for me, a love that makes it easy to expose
the innermost wretches of my heart.
I line up my failures and the dew of the sea
rushes over them, shines them into
something else–a birthright of purity,
celestially new.
My Writing Life 