water

how can broken people heal a shattered world?

maybe we can’t.

maybe we’re not 

supposed to.

what if we just wait for the flood?


it cannot be much longer until God regrets, undoes

what we’ve said They’ve done

our veins pulse with shame, for shame

we are the drought

f o r    s h a m e.

the first day of spring


  

  

Warmth in the sun and cool in the shade. Bonfire smoke in your face. Kids running and giggling and plucking beautiful weeds by the fistful for their mothers. Grandfathers and great grandfathers and the clink of horseshoes in the lawn; gruff and gentle. Chocolate cake smeared on baby-turned-toddler faces because first birthdays deserve to be celebrated at least twice. Celebrated with bright new dresses and stacks of wooden puzzles. Sugar crash nap in daddy’s arms. A newly planted redbud tree, a sapling meant to grow alongside you. Jonquil and clover.