a voice crying out in the postmodern wilderness

Me of Little Faith

My feet submerge, wet
Doubts hung like albatrosses on my toes
Reach for me, Lord
The wind spits salt in my face
Heckles with condemnation
Cold and deep, and dark
Heavier still, descending
Surely not
Until—not if
Your hands surround
Lifted by the gift of all gifts
A changed mind, reborn
Sink or swim, I no longer care
As long as you are there

Nobody Reads Poetry

A Firm Foundation

A Firm Foundation