I’ve been meaning to stretch
these cramped, untested arms
halted but ready
to hold these moments.
You are there
where once I was
there are spatters of blood
on this clock, ticking in remembrance.
The shrapnel of leaves
vacated from their secure places
invites the lesser flowers
to grow more brazenly
no more to bury their faces
but breathe in the new life
of death.
If we are made in God’s image and God sings, then we should be singing, too.
Revitalizing the Christian imagination through painting, poetry, music, and more
Ancient Wisdom for Modern Seekers
Writing from the In/Between
Spiritual Direction for Integrated Living
from liquid courage to sober courage
an anamcara exploring those close encounters of the liminal kind
Collaborating with the Muses to inspire, create, and illuminate
...in such kind ways...
"That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all thy wondrous works." Psalm 26:7
Blog for poet and singer-songwriter Malcolm Guite
…in the thick of things
REFLECTIONS & REVIEWS
Seeking that which is life giving.
… hope is oxygen
Rob's Lit-Bits 
Hmmm – ‘there are spatters of blood on this clock, ticking in remembrance…’ Some species of brilliance, that. One of your best, I think…
Thanks, Melody. That means a lot coming from you. I’ve been truly inspired by a bunch of PNW poets I’ve been reading lately. I’m trying to stretch and grow in this craft.
Consider yourself stretched!
H a a a a a a a!