Slow Mercy – A Poem

There is a slowness to the winter sunrise An unhurried separation of the darkened sky and shadowed land Purple and yellow and orange and red spread their blurring edges like a healing bruise A spilling of paints on a table of dark blue

The Man

Below is a poem about growing used to the process of sanctification as I get a bit older. It's called "The Man" The Man There’s a man who lives inside my house He looks a lot like me, except older He walks slouched by the incessant weight of cynicism and sits sunken by the burden... Continue Reading →

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑