A Woman

I am torn by this baby’s birth just as I am
by the spring when it arrives suddenly
out of long days and hushed grays.

Greens push out of damp earth with such
promise and my soul opens to the light,
cautious of what could be exposed.

Springs have come before only to leave
me in the midst of barren winters with
cold hands and a faltering heart.

Something about this baby seems different
because, as he grows, light surrounds him
and life quickens even in the winter months.

My dirty, doubting soul reaches out to him as he
walks dusty roads. I am compelled to follow
as he calls, touches, and feeds.

I watch the ones who have refused my pleas
spit and slash him, breaking his body apart
before all of us who saw him with our own eyes.

His last gasp stabs me in unknown depths
and no amount of strength can hold me fast
through the death of this once-baby boy.

The heavy darkness covers us all. We must
have imagined the grace in his eyes and
power in his hands, desperate as we were.

And then behind me a single word is spoken,
“Mary.” My lungs fill again with air and light.
A spring without end has begun.

More Grace


More Grace

I chased after saving grace panting
like I do for the salty ocean air.

Once I knew it was there waiting
to be swallowed, my lungs could hardly hold,
so starved they were.

You know what it’s like –
all the things of the world offered to you
when your body is weak
and mind overtaken.

And then you’re gasping
and something near your heartbeat breaks apart.
You can’t touch it down deep,
but there it is shattered.

You hold these pieces
not remembering who or what broke you
because it happened while
you smiled and closed your eyes.

But then one day a light shines in
and your splintered soul rises, met by a
a wave that heals.

Oh! There’s more grace after saving grace comes
and it’s sent to us until we’re made whole.