Image Bearer

He birthed the world, His lungs scattering dust the way trees scatter light in the forest.   The stars burned in His palms, the galaxies trailed behind His fingertips, but He chose the smallest image bearer to carry His grace:   dust, rib, breath.   it was good. Advertisements


I do not know this man in the stained glass. His robe is clean, he smiles serenely, and I do not recognize those wounds. Those are not wounds that say ‘it is finished;’ that clean-shaven image with its miniscule scars is a portrait that underestimates the darkness of Friday and misses the importance of Sunday … More Baptism

What if I carried them all, carried the immensity of your poisoned dreams, your ideas of what I should be? What if my shoulders tried to hold it all, bending under the load as I stride alone beneath the slender moon that trembles when she sees the burden I carry? Do I frighten you, with … More

An Exchange

Hold on, little one. Clasp your rhetoric tightly as you step away from the splintered cross You’ll need it, for the safety of a list of rules and something called religion. Oh, but don’t you know? Love was never meant to be safe, and this watered-down grace is only half a life. So turn around. … More An Exchange


I see the fire in the sky, closing in on earth. your palms, so full of rage and thunder grip decaying dreams. you shake your fists at the sky, and wait.   wait.   the word, like poison, does nothing for the anger. inexplicable, bound here, angry and terrified.   terrified.   perhaps there is … More lost


I’ve heard them all, the names, the numbers, sterile classifications that compose my identity; that tell me who I am. never enough, and always too much; you don’t, you can’t, you shouldn’t have. But this identity, of  silk and sackcloth, dust and ashes, and the sorrow of a thousand years: perhaps again, we’ve all been … More emblem


Oh sweet wanderer, breathless with wonder in new corners and old castles and dusty bookshelves, take me with you when you go. You and I, we were never made to have a home. We were made to wander, to fall apart and fall together, to reach and never hold, to seek and never find. Oh … More Wanderlust