Getty images- Brittney Borowski

Listen to poem instrumental here

If the awkward shame

of my ill steadfastness

only intensifies the deep loyalties

You have toward me, then let me drown in thoughts

of Your unchanging love for me.

Let me drown delightfully—

never wishing my mortal lungs air

without knowing fully and completely how I am Yours,

so beautifully broken and perfectly Yours.


The Phone Machine War and Girls

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Listen to audio poem here

So take that, you

Phone in your hand

That, that one thing of high demand

Take it, and rescue yourself


Didn’t you hear

That thing has no fear

It will eat you, eat you alive

Flesh out your ears


And toss out


That you control it

If that ain’t real— Not so


But bring it close

And tell yourself—

I am, I can

Recognize the truth, the deceptions it hides

This day this time

It’s way, way too easily led blind


But what you are


What you become


Alive, inside

You are not that mute square

Of inorganic chip

Gluing its addictions

To your tiny fingertip


Instead pull from what ground

You grew

Family, faith and love

Diligent life and trust

To these things

Forever, sisters, do pledge

Unorthodox hearts


Listen to poem here

If we grow

In time

Not a shallow root

Untouched by the sun’s brilliance

But a friendly hook beneath

The crook of our smiles


If we harken to

A new song

Not a trumped up tune

Untouched by temptation or trial

But a bridge connecting mortal souls

If in time we sing strong


And if we run

A race

Of love, not a weekend goal

Untouched by weariness

But a call to peak performance—

Enduring endurance— if we run it well


Would we then

Foster hidden charms

Cascading hearts

Of charity and honor

Each seeking the other

Upon humanity’s collar


Would we score consecutive goals

On empathetic soil,

All the while soaring above

The tympanic shores

We’d outstretch our hands


To miracles and masterful struggles

Digging a groove upbeat,

Where peace like a river flows

Running for home,

Brocading the ground beneath our feet


For what might become

Fall’s crisp call

The whitening of old winter’s coat

Or the harvester of spring’s flowers

Blowing softly

Forever in tune

Would be the beat of our unorthodox hearts





Upon completion

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Under a cloche

Where inside is stowed

A craftsmen’s wooded garden

Rests a boy

Along a river’s bend


His fingertips scratch

Identities of growth

And with them he shows


Of 3rd and 4th generations


Mayzie birds

In crisscrossed turns

Circle high above him


They spy his heart

Sputter and start,

Aglow from inside among them


Ne’er a fret or worry

For Master or art

Ever tainting

Torrential seasons

For any of the reasons


Instead in verdant soil

Sweetened by marsh’s breeze

This tinyscape,

Alone and alive,

Is warmly surrounded


With thoughts,

Intuition and deep understanding

That this dome-shaped sphere,

A powerful

Rasion d’être, is his oak tree of abiding

Stand up

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Stand up, girl

Be seen for how

You were made strong

So true of the day

You were born


You are more than

What you know

Don’t drink the lies of what

Others think

Stand tall


Gather courage

That you already have

To sing, dance, jump, all

You are so well


Secure yourself

 In the freedom

(Don’t let anyone tell you



To rejoice that you were

Made to be

Just like you, and I was made

Just like me


Our dreams speak to our


One a tornado

Another a soft pillow

Both are needed


Let’s be light

Enduringly bright


All Rooming Together—

In earth’s vagabond heart


Stand up, girl

Stand up tall, So

Tomorrow and in every

single way

you become more fully awake

Wide awake

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Listen to song

I wrote this recently about (for) our daughter who is growing up and discovering fully who she is. As she stumbles through these young adult years she will make mistakes but she will hopefully discover that she is well with herself. And as she awakens to all she is fully becoming, I am discovering that I am well with her, too.
For all of us helping to grow up the young girls in our lives (whether entering middle school or leaving home for college), this song speaks to the discovery these young lives make as they travel their unique paths.


Who am I to question how she is

Who am I to say I know best

In all these days

And craziness

It’s hard to find rest


As she’s shedding her skin

Becoming within

Who she’s meant to be

Oh, Oh


How am I to count our time

Her future’s so bright

In all her ways

Though she strays

She’ll always be mine


She’s shedding her skin

Finding within

That’s she’s wide awake

She’s wide awake

She’s wide awake

Oo, oh, ooo, oh

And she is well, she is well



She’s shedding her skin

She knows deep within that

She’s wide awake

She’s wild awake

And she is well

Finding faith



I am pulled upward, daily,

To the skies

Where the love affair of my eyes

Harvests fusions of drive-by shapes


 Their random designs spur spiritual senses,

I am suspended

Effortlessly in their broad brands of white, grays, and electric blues


Artistic holiness floods the horizon

Mornings’ champagne, noonday honey and evening rose golds

Silver the edges of feathers, wisps, castles and tadpoles


One birthday wish?

To bottle the clouds

In sea glass with an air tight cork plug


So I could say “hello” each morning to a white wash of creations

On my kitchen sill,

The sighs of coffee in steamy spots on the window


O clouds! How alike you are to my soul—

Wisped-tailed or tornado, white squalled or subtle

The streaming of my spirit turning in over itself


Where the discomforts of my faith

Tighten their grip on reality

I rest in the beauty and strength of your inherent nature

To move, sweep, and swirl


I see you sky!

Your beautiful radiant works

The magnificence you unfold minute by minute

A drop cloth of kinetic art


Does my faith look like you?

Do wonder and anticipation wake up your eyes?

Knowing that the very nature of your pleasure and beauty for my heart

Is by design,

Am I, too, your art?