my outsides are a shambles
frail and not so wonderfully made
I won’t be winning contests
price for living shows paid
by lines and curves (not
ones you would want) the
lines have blurred and no
amount of dieting will fix
but in this weak and achy
skeleton shell the inside
is still a girl with heart and
soul for all the creation can
be seen and wings would fly
above the earth and travel
miles and miles to see
the glory, story, unbelievable
lightness of creation nature
people in their houses
tending gardens of their
making while they’re taking
time to love each other
and in all the sadness and
the pain wreaked by us
love endures and even
the most sorry has a
moment of indescribable
grace the face of God moves
over all and you can’t see it
but you feel it, it affects the
tides the butterflies the
ripples and I fly and fly
and in my dreams I take the
love I see and I am filled
and inside skilled at holding
it, enfolding it, and keeping it
with me so the outside lies
the inside is the good (and bad)
I am created to create and
carry all with me and yet
to give it and to fill you too
it never ends but multiplies
in calculations we can’t write
but try because how could
we not