Your first tooth broke through,
you crawled and stood up, too,
you climbed up on the shelf,
all by your very self.
You ate chunks of bananas,
you made some sounds like “da-duh,”
you had many happy meetings
and you learned to wave a greeting.
You displayed your headstrong will
and once or twice you sat quite still.
All this progress in one month!
And me, what have I done?
Earn Your Own Salvation
We’re all born in chains of sin.
Yes, that’s what we believe.
But the answer’s easy:
Jesus died to set you free.
Besides, it’s in our budget.
A sinner’s prayer is cheap.
You can share our Jesus
and our building we can keep.
But all your earthly troubles?
They are your own creation.
So from your living hell
you must earn your own salvation.
Not There
My selfish soul says,
“God, what the hell are you doing?”
God says,
“Your selfish soul’s and hell’s undoing.”
I ask,
“God, where the hell are we going?”
“Not there, thank Me!”
Thank God, not there.
Longing
Sometimes I long for I don’t know.
My heart just longs. I don’t know why.
I feel this feeling will not go
away until the day I die.
Morning Sigh
Morning comes around
like cursive
where it touches the line.
My feet touch the ground.
It’s cold.
The sun will rise.
I go upstairs softly.
My face still pink
as the morning sky.
My brain still in a haze
like letters poorly erased
by the gummy night.
I pour myself some coffee,
hot coffee that has cooled,
to sip and sigh.
to sip and sigh.
Coming Home
Today I woke in my own bed.
A to-do list formed in my head.
Check the chickens, check email,
Follow my own paper trail.
Go through notebooks stacked in piles.
Turn them into labeled files.
Wash the diapers. Wash the clothes.
And then I’ll think of more, I know.
First: breakfast and then take a shower.
Write three little poems.
Coming back to a list like this
means I’m coming home.
My Own Harmony
We turned scraps of trash into
works of art.
We took turns singing
the second part.
That sister way our voices blend–
you’re my best friend, and that won’t end.
But now that you are far from me,
I must sing my own harmony.
My voice is too loud
for this house,
whether I sing or
whether I shout.
Friends is something I should
get around to,
knowing that no one
will be like you.
Come for a visit.
Sing and I’ll sing with it.
That sister way our voices blend–
you’re my best friend, and that won’t end.
But now that you are far from me,
I must sing my own harmony.