there is something that hold us in harmony,
as if our Creator designed us this way.
our home like a nucleus, and we
are each one of its electrons,
with an orbit of its own,
in constant motion, but drawn
to the center of our atomic family.
but we are molecular too, as we bond
covalently with others we love
to form water, carbohydrates, the

it was supposed to have
been you, the fragile one who
reached out, in need of help.
i am so glad you did, that i
reached back, and met you there.
so glad that it wasn’t too late
for you, because there never
would have been an us.
i love your heart, the inner
workings of your mind, how you
calm the storm inside of me.
you are my safe harbor
when i am lost at sea.
i’ll be your home, so there’s
never a place you could go
without my love to embrace you

there’s less than a generation
between us but you’ve been a
spiritual father to me. a role
model through how you’ve
lived life and our work
in ministry. you’ve been a teacher,
yet its burden of responsibility
is one you’ve never shirked, for the
love of those you lead. perhaps
it’s an ease that comes with a
lifetime of welcoming new life into
the world, whether born or
born again. you’ve helped me to
grow as you’ve shown how to walk a
narrow road without turning
aside to the left or the right.
because Christ is our center, it’s
never mattered if we vote the
same way. God made us to balance

there was a time in
my life i would have
thought entirely about
what i didn’t have,
about what i
was striving for.
when you lose every-
thing, even the smallest
blessing feels like a gift.
for that which life has
given back to me, i am

we have a large bird feeder at
our house in the backyard.
it used to be that birds
would flock to it, their
wings a symphony. but since
we switched to songbird food
we see far fewer now. i hope
they are alright, wonder
if they grew self conscious,

my coffee never tastes
as good without you at
the breakfast table, laughing
over our morning hair sticking
out every which way.
the afternoons spent doing
mundane things without you here
to make their meaning full.
the evenings i can’t hold you
close, as we talk about
philosophy, staying up
late to ponder the nature
of infinity (how can something
not end if it never began?)

there is a moment, after
the waiting is done, the one
where you first come into view.
i want to run to you through
a field of flowers, into an
everlasting embrace.
there is an avalanche then,
of words and kisses - they’ve
been forming a queue since

we used to spend
the nights together
on one side of the
country and another.
we held each other close
by talking through all
the mundane details of
each day. intimacy,
we learned, staying

she asked me, my mom
who was (still is) a role
model for me, in ways both good
and bad (..)) a per-
fectionist ( there but)
(for the grace of God go i)
for a poem about
not striving. so i will
not strive to write a masterpiece.
instead i’ll remember
my reading from this morning

we loved cartoons
when we were kids,
watched them
after school and
on saturday mornings
and all throughout
vhs summers;
there were
three of us then.

in the year 2076,
if i am alive, i will be
97 years old, or 98,
if it’s after my birthday.
if i am still alive,
it’s possible that
they might have found a way
to cure death by then.
although it would be
a shame, because i

we hear much about young love.
and rightly so; there is so much
to say. that initial flurry of
love notes and longings,
presenting our best selves to our
potential partners. then a dedication,
our lives, once two, now one.
perhaps, for once, feeling
whole and feeling home. over time
that closeness ebbs and flows
as we go about our lives in
close proximity. sometimes there is a
FatalFlaw, some profound dis-
agreement that may seem
irreconcilable. some will stay
and stick it out. others may
give up and try again with
someone new. what i have found,
having loved and lost and loved
the same person is what i heard
once to be true: eventually, as two

i wonder what it would
have been like to live
in a world in which bears
were more of a concern. i
suppose in some parts of
the states they still are
for some. i remember our first
week in santa fe we saw
a headline from a local
paper that read:
Bear Duped by Carrot Cake.
apparently one had been breaking
into a home near the edge
of town and going through
this couple’s kitchen at night
seeking food. they’d debated

it is a thoughtful place.
everywhere you look
there is comfort,
reassurance that you’re
safe among friends.
our hosts are gracious,
as able to give others
space as they are to
engage in conversation.
if people have phones
you’d never know, except
when there’s a need, a
reservation to be taken,
someone waiting for a
ride back from the clinic,
after a difficult day of
working to be well.
in some ways it reminds me

there are those people that
you click with right off the
bat and become fast friends with.
others that come of time spent
circum stantially in the company
of those who aren’t like us.
we have so much to learn from
each other. it is exciting in
its own way to be exposed
to new ideas, music, ways of

my loved one
my darling
my friend.
it hurts me to see
you hurt. i know
you feel abandoned
helpless
like there’s little
to look forward to
in life. all i can
say is that i’ll
be here for you.
sit with you and hold
your heart and your hand.
i’m no stranger to
the house of mourning.
i’m more at home here,
really, than in
the house of mirth.
all i can say is

i remember visiting a church
we’d only been to a few times.
we hadn’t met too many people there.
the sermon was on Jesus healing
a woman who’d been bleeding
every day for twelve straight years.
i was, at the time newly ill, had quit
a job i loved to see if a lower stress
lifestyle would help but it did not.
i started ugly crying, found that
i could not stop. i didn't want
to wait a decade more in order

walk with me, my love,
under the light of the moon.
i love how it sparkles the
whites of your eyes as they
meet mine, and suddenly no one
notices the color of our
skin anymore. in it we are
transformed. it makes everything

pride has always been
one of my fave writ
times, but this year
feels new, with you by my
side to share it with.
it is delicious, a
fusion of how we are
different yet the same.
i love how you love
we are soft, each the
other’s safe space and it’s
been like coming home.

people say it as if
it’s a point of pride:
i have no filter, shifting
the responsibility for
being offended onto the listener
letting the speaker off the hook.
we need our filters, actually.
words warp their listeners,
hurt those who are
AlreadyBroken, why can’t we
just call people by their
chosen names? it’s a small