make my circle smaller.

I seem to live in circles

spirals always cycling back

rotating endlessly

but there is

a fixed point:


and I stray


and farther

and you,

you wait patiently

for my path to circle back

to you.

but I,

I am tired

of the circles, the endless looping

near and far,

and I pray that my steps

would take my circle

a little closer

this time around.

this time,

maybe I will not

stray so far.

this time,

maybe I will make

my circle

a little smaller.

and next time,

a little smaller.

and maybe

my circle –

instead of

taking me away

– will only

revolve around you.

// october 2014


so where?

you said that you

will never leave or forsake.

i know that.

i’ve memorized it, haven’t i?

i’ve heard it enough times.

so where the hell are you?

i’m here. i’ve been standing here,

walking circles around these same prayers,

i’m wearing holes in the carpet

and still –


i believe that you will never leave,

never forsake,

but it’s hard to believe

in the middle of absence.

i’m getting mad.

i’m getting ready to scream and cuss and cry,

all at once,

but no,

a good girl doesn’t do those things.

she waits

and she believes.

i’m tired of waiting

and i’m not sure how long

i can keep


when you keep

not showing up.

maybe if i just knew –

how far?

how long?

are you right outside the door,

or down the road,

or halfway around the world

waiting for a plane flight

that’s been delayed too many times to count?

here i am again,

wrapping you up in metaphor,

painting over it with pretty words

to hide the stark and ugly truth:

i don’t know when you’ll walk back into my heart again.

and i know –

i know, so please don’t tell me again –

that you will never leave

never forsake.

so where the hell are you?

hope springs eternal, they say.

hope springs eternal, they say.
have you somehow found
the Fountain of Youth
and just not shared the coordinates
with me?
I could use a hope-spring
because it seems that all I have
is a well
and it has gone dry.
have hope, they say.
how exactly am I supposed
to have hope?
is it an emotion
that I can manufacture
like joy
plaster hope onto my face like a smile?
do I just need
to try a little harder
self-help myself a little more?
could you please
just hand me some hope
to put in my pocket
and carry with me every day?
I don’t understand how hope works, really
no more than I understand love
or faith
or trust
or beauty
or any one of those million intangibles
those words we toss around
til they seem to lose meaning
maybe I don’t know how
to have hope
because I don’t really know what
hope is.
belief in things unseen,
isn’t that the phrase?
or maybe it is the thing with feathers.
I’m not sure.
I think my mind has gotten cluttered
and I need to start over
start new
find and define for myself.
hope is believing that if
I just take the first step,
the next step will become clear.
hope is trusting that I get
one more breath,
and then another.
hope is foolish, stubborn,
an insistent, persistent clinging
to the promise
that one day,
it will all be okay.
hope springs eternal, they say.
I don’t know if I believe that,
but I chose to believe
that someday,
it will all be okay.
or at least,
some of it will be okay.
I guess that’s kind of the same thing.

come over me like water.

come over me

like water,

fill all the cracks

and crevices.


you are so welcome here.

come like a flood,

come like rain,


with the force of your presence.

pour out all the waters

of you

onto my dry soul.

come like a river,

roaring down towards the sea,

roots and rocks giving way

in the power of your rush.

come like the sea,

crashing over me

as a wave

beating against

my weary heart

until all the rough

is smoothed away.

come like a lake,

calm and still

peace soothing

a troubled life.

as the deer

pants for water,

so I long for you

but I do not believe

that a drink will satisfy.

drown me

I will sink

until the waters close above my head

and there,

on the ocean floor,

perhaps I will

no longer thirst.

eyes to see.

my natural inclination

is not to praise.

i do not see


in all of creation.

come to think of it,

i do not think

i even see creation.

i see

but miss the wonder.

miss the glory.

miss the beauty.


i stood on a mountain

and peered

out at the valley below.

and you said,

He created this with one word.

and i thought…

i want to look at the world

and marvel like that.


one word

endless beauty

and i don’t want to miss it anymore.

i want to see glory

i want to stand in wonder

i want to be awe-struck

by the simple

(marvelously complex)


that the sun continues

to peek over the horizon

every morning.

simple fact,

everyday miracle.


give me eyes to see

ears to hear

hands to hold

a heart to rejoice

in everyday miracles.

oh, i want to see the glory.

you once told me.

you once told me

that i was created




but in this world

that surrounds me

and barely makes sense

it’s hard for me

to see the purpose

when i don’t even


the inner workings

of my own

foolhardy heart

and tongue-twisted head.

this me –

this supposedly

fearfully and wonderfully me –

sometimes, this me does not

seem to fit

and i am left


half-completed phrases

tangled emotions

and hands

clutching at something

without knowing

exactly what they were reaching


or what they


and so i

try to cling to the truth

that i am

fearfully and wonderfully made

but sometimes,

i must confess,

that truth rings false

to my ears.

change, long awaited and late in coming.

it feels like limbs,

wrapped tight trapped

longing to break out

of this day

this week

this moment

this skin

this life

this steady everyday

it feels like a fire,

hot enough to burn

but not hot enough

to burn away the old

and bring in the new

it feels like being held back

by circumstances

or fear

or time

or weakness

it feels like an impossible,


need to escape



need to get out

to set fire

to set free

to do something.


at all.

somehow someway something

some thing.

it feels like pressing

up against

the skin that separates

today from tomorrow

and finding

that it does not budge

will not move

will not give

will not bend

will not fold around your curves

and welcome them

into newness

it just stands

and resists

and you can

throw yourself at that wall

all you want

but it

will not



prompted by a story sessions write-in. if you need community, these ladies are the raddest around.