Church and Masterpiece
Two poems from the archives for those of us on shifting sand this Easter Sunday
Church
She needs a church
without four walls
where the fresh air
can breathe life
into her weary soul.
She needs to worship
to the song of baby feet
splashing in puddles
open her eyes to the rundown
beauty of the house on the corner.
She needs to hear
the whispered testimony
of the trees
listen to the shouted
sermon of the birds.
She needs to look up
surrender to the rain
let it fall with grace
and wash her sins away.
Masterpiece
She clutches grief
in one hand,
joy in the other.
She’s been told
to keep them apart,
but she wonders
what would happen
if they touch?
So she folds
her palms together,
just for a second,
and when she opens
them, she’s holding
a masterpiece.
Beautiful, Michelle.
The words I needed to read today thank you 💛