Tag: poetry

You’re New Here–Its Nice to Meet You


Hello Blue Eyes
Its nice to meet you.

I knew you were coming,
I’ve been waiting and nesting,
But—oh my! My heart feels like its bursting.

Your brand new face, your fuzzy head,
All your own, but like an old friend.
My eyes just want to drink all of you in.

You’re familiar somehow,
Your yawn like a growl,

Our bodies fit, like our hearts always knew,

Hello Blue Eyes,
Its nice to meet you.

You’re holding on to my finger so tight,
My love, just keep holding on,
Sometimes it will be a bumpy ride,
But we’re together, so we’re not alone.

You’re big owl eyes know,
That I am all yours,
We talk in the quiet love language thats ours,

You’ll tell me your secrets
I’ll whisper my wishes,

The first has already come true,

Hello Blue Eyes,
Its nice to meet you.


Come meet me in the morning,
When the monsters are asleep.
Whisper me the promises,
I know only you can keep.

Come meet me in the morning,
over coffee, black as my heart.
Let your love pour into me,
to cast out all that is dark,

Come meet me in the morning,
Tucked away, but not alone.
Let me know that you hear me,
Breathe life into dried bones.

Morning after morning,
You guide my mind; My thoughts you guard.
You greet me with the sunrise; And wipe soot from this old heart.

Oh Baby- This is Us

You know all my secrets baby,
The truths that I hold in,
Thanks for keeping quiet baby,
For holding tight my hand.

You know all my crazy baby,
The thoughts behind my smile,
Thanks for knowing the real me baby,
For loving my twisted mind.

You know all my stories baby,
The fire that’s brought us here,
Thanks for guarding the door baby,
For keeping God’s truth always near.

You know me all the way baby,
The whole twisted lovely mess,
Thanks for staying and laughing baby,
For reminding me we’re blessed.

Dog Years

Hours pass like a slow drip, belly full of jumping beans,
Days ticked off a calendar,
Until the day that meant another year older,
“When Mommy…when?
“Shhh…Not yet.”

At a desk, Staring out the window, 
Sprinklers dot the glass,  
Sun and kelly green grass shout summer,
 “Ms. Lake, Can we leave….now?
“Shhh…Not yet.”

Slow days measured by ringing bells
The hallway stretches so long,
Ruby red cap, pressed gown, behind a closet door,
“Is it time?”
“Shhh…Not yet.”

Hair grown long, mind made up,
Perfect plans with sips of coffee,
Kitten Heels, A job, A lease
“Do I have it figured out?”
“Shhh..Not yet.”

Candles, a ring, a date on the calendar,
One day that changes all tomorrows,
Wrapped in white, hair pinned to perfect,
“Dad, Am I ready?”
“Shhh…Not yet.”

Swollen, aching, impatient 
Bursting with life, Ripe with change,
Belly hiding toes, Quiet pastel room,
“Dr, Is she coming?”
“Shh…Not yet.”

Anxious, praying, hoping trusting
Letting go of what is, Waiting for what’s coming,
Tears of change, Heart spilling life,
“God…Will it ever make sense?”
“Shh…Not yet.”




Date Night

Lets pour our dreams on draft

like cool amber liquid

topped with white foam

forming mustaches

flirt with me

and you can catch my heart

once again.

smiling and laughing

and loving like we have

one life to live,

and I’d pick you to share mine with

again and again.

tonight my love,

tomorrow a daddy,

my husband always.


When You Love


Fickle child don’t pout,
Your birthday candles are puffed
and tucked back in their box,
But look at the twinkling lights
He’s hung for you in the sky,

Your castle made of blocks
may reach high and then fall down,
But you are His temple,

Your sweet head may swirl with fears, doubts, and a gajillion “what if’s”,
But your heart is
safely tucked inside His heart

Your balloon floats out of sight.
But He is everywhere,
At the end of the rainbow,
On the tip of your tongue,
In your dreams, 

When you love,
When you’re brave,
and especially
When you feel all alone.





100 Honest Words

vbs moreconverse

“What do I want to be when I grow up?”

A question I’ve asked since scraped knees and greasy pony.
Sleek and polished professional the same question buzzes in my blood.
Yoga pants, messy bun cliche, kids running underfoot, the question sings like a lullaby in the early morning beneath cries and snuggles.
These days self realization looks a lot like self promotion— self devotion.
But amid the accumulation, and forward motion, stuffed emotion, I wonder if that question is an ironic statement that lingers to tease us, teasing out the loose threads of our unraveling certainty.

Who am I?

Chasing the Sun

In the dark tomb of fear,
Waiting for light of day,
The dark chill whispers; waiting
For mercy to appear.

Sing me a night song
Until it is daylight,
Hum to me hope
This night is so long.

Faith never waning,
For you I will wait,
Redemption in the mourning,
Roll the rock away.

Black fades to grey
A tapestry of dawn
The glow of sun is coming
Night turns to day.

Night flees without a trace
The sun rises boldly
Trickling water to a river
It tastes like Grace.

Simply Love


simply love 

Love is complicated,

Tangling us in knots of fear and uncertaity,
Nervous knots of joy and anticipation,
Love changes answers, challenges reason.

It is small like a dimple, it is big like a swollen belly,
Bitter like coffee, salty like tears
Sweet as syrupy pancakes.

It afflicts the strong, it comforts the weak
It breaks us, it makes us whole,
Love empowers us, changes us, humbles us.

Love is at the edge of our fingers,
 Its the next right thing, the hardest choice.

Love is brave,
Love is simple,
Love is life.


Learning to Fly


This is what I know.
I know my heart aches to watch my daughter crumple to the ground, her legs too weak to skip, or twirl, or run till she can’t catch her breath.
I know a mother shouldn’t have to sing lullabies to calm her baby as she twists and wrestles to be free, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes as she’s poked again and again.
I know the mom in the crowded waiting room of the ER, with her head bowed over the sleeping pile of a sick child, belongs at home with her feet propped on a table, her son tucked in his Thomas Train comforter in his bed.
I know I’m not alone in suffering. I know we can only drink life in as bittersweet cocktail of overflowing joy and aching emptiness.

But I know so much more.

I know I am blessed more than my words can ever express.
I know a daddy that pushes his baby around the hospital floors for hours on end, who wears an ash cross on his forehead, his eyes filled with tears, but his heart full of unwavering loyalty and trust. A husband that stays all night on one half of a twin cot because he knows his wife needs him.
I know a doctor run ragged with slumped shoulders, walking home, used up and tired, who’s hands have healed more lives than faces he can remember,
I know the warm blanket of peace wrapped around me amid the chorus of children’s cries and the dull ache of fear and uncertainty.
I know more food than my belly can hold, more prayers whispered than I can imagine, more kindness than I can repay
I know that when we’re broken, the love that binds us back together, makes us more complicated, and more beautiful.
I know a little girl who can’t walk, but believes she can “fly” through the trees in a blue plastic swing.
I know a girl who will walk, and skip, and run again, with a life story that sings like a love song,
I know a God that gives me the eyes to see His grace tucked in this corner of a hospital room lulled to sleep by the hum of IV monitors and the snores of my little bird.