When Blindness Smiles

When blindness smiles I can feel the curve of your lips.

When blindness smiles I can hear the wrinkle of your eyes.

When blindness smiles I can smell the whisper of your tongue.

When blindness smiles I can taste your pores as we nestle.

When blindness smiles I can see you and you can see me.

Glint In Her Eye

A young woman with deep sadness in her eyes served me this evening. I haven't told her that I've been praying for her in her semi hidden struggles, but I have. I just see the heaviness in her affect each time I see her and it weighs me down as well. I guess I am an empath after all. I don't see prayer the way I used to, sending some secret message to a sky god micromanaging every infinitesimal detail. I still believe in God, but not in the way I used to. I now see prayer as a common bond binding us to each other, helping us to know we're not alone in our struggles and battles.

That kind of prayer makes a miraculous difference.

True, If You Can Believe It.

An elderly follower of Jesus, half mad with hope, writes on parchment on a prison island, revealing the hidden. He remembers back, lo those many years ago, to when he, or maybe someone by his namesake, walked alongside a hard scrabble rabbi in the dusty roads of Palestine, teaching, learning, walking, talking and listening to what was and is yet to come. No longer hidden unbiddden images flood his eyes failing from age scribe by his side not quite believing what's being told.

Sunday Religion

I was talking with a young man who works with me at the farm about religion today. He mentioned that his father is moderately religious and attends services pretty regularly, but that he and his mom and his siblings go to church maybe once or twice a year and that his friends are exactly the same, almost never attending religious services. This conversation came up because of the influx of customers to our farm store around noon into the early afternoon. I shared that in West Michigan the Sunday routine is still largely governed by church going folks, only showing up to stores after services let out. Here in Cape Ann I'm more likely to see Starbucks packed full at 9am Sunday morning with people reading their NY Times sipping their barista tended drinks. He saw no reason to go to church, especially with everything in the news about the various scandals and corruption.

Nape of Your Neck

I lean in and kiss you and we embrace, smelling each others' skin and hair, neck against neck, breathe against breathe. Our heads kneel into each other as we escape into embrace, but for each other and ourselves. Beloved and struggling with love.

I will always love you Gwenn.