A Poem: “Naturally”

trauma is a scary thing

You think it’s gone,

but then you find it lingering

where the nails meet skin

the sharp things live

where the speedometer runs high.

when the loud sounds ring.

 

 

 

 

 

All Praise

The rain might keep falling

The weather unchanging

but still my soul will keep on singing of your promises to me

 

You Say

you delight in me

that there lie green pastures and a bounty of joy everlasting //waiting at a table for me

Surely goodness will follow, even as this rain continues to fall

And So I Will Keep On Singing

I’ll keep on singing of your goodness, your goodness, your goodness….

Until this rain transforms, these dry bones rise, I will keep on singing of your goodness to me.

Flow

I *think* poems in the car

On the toilet seat

At the opening of my sleep

Because

I don’t really know why

For some reason these places conduct (produce) flow