Wednesday, January 23, 2013


Teeth chattering
rattling cold bones
of a hungry throng
straining to hear
some hot word
trickle down
rumor of some
Man they heard
used to speak
a long time ago.
For years she waits
blue-lipped, cracked
hands tugging
at the sleaves
of a thread-bare faith,
until He came,
like an open flame,
close as a coal
held to her lips--
Come dance with me
my love, my lover,
my beloved lovely one--
be wrapped in robes
of my rejoicing, in life,
in light, in song.


Martyn Wendell said...

I loved this

Annah said...

I love this too!
especially the
cracked hands
bare faith
flame and lips
and the title!

forgive me for being too wrapped up in my own threads to see these other writings from the fall...
raw glistening gems ! ...more please?