As Christian women, we are often encouraged to dress modestly. There are plenty of reasons that are given for this virtue, but some reasons seem to have a tendency to be warped into something nasty or nonsensical. Attempts to teach girls about modesty have been used to shame them or deluge them with a long list of rules – rules that can sound a lot like “Touch not; taste not; handle not” (Colossians 2:21).*

Lying alone during the nights
Broken, dreamless
Terrified to fight
I was falling to pieces
Forever afraid
Shattered and lonely
Til you called my name
The impossible is all I can say
You found me and took
My mourning away
You froze time to know me
A black-hearted queen
Though once caged like a monster
Your love sets me free

First fourth birthday parties. Edmund and Delilah. Triangular cheese sandwiches—two layers of white bread around neon-yellow American. Per request, of course. Our backyard, a canopy of gauze, strewn up in theme colors: pale, pale blue, and the palest green. Pastels. An Easter-time party. Said it was lucky, to be born around when Jesus was. The second time. There are plenty of Christmas babies, but a second coming—

The things I've done
This crown that I've won
A tale for my son
Are my honest lies
Of a life beyond mine
Royal beyond bloodlines
A love beyond time
Behind silver eyes

A traveler from places far
A scholar and yet a warrior
The one people fight for
They call Silver Eyes

A vision of the future
Free from strife and war
A land green and pure
Burns in silver eyes

A knight and his sword
A land and its lord
A sage and his word
Fear the Silver Eyes

Were it but easy to exact
Very trying tasks,
Then all would do the fair share.

Were it but never harrowing
To walk the path ever narrowing,
Then all would take it without a care.

Were it but no daring leap
To maintain the promises we keep,
Then the world would be full of honest men.

Were it but the crooked road
Had the comforts of home,
Then the world would supply for them.

Cut the edges off,
Take the wider path,
And for that the world will commend.

I rarely - if ever - construct a poem at a computer. For whatever reason, when I decide I want to sit down and write a poem, I always look around for a pencil and my notebook. Even if I've been sitting at my computer for a while, as soon as I want to work on a poem, I almost instinctively leave it for a piece of paper.

It had been hours. A doctor had been summoned, Grandfather was rushed into one of the rooms of the estate, and the party was disbanded. Ettore had waited long enough outside the room in which the doctor was with Grandfather. He sat at the bedside and he observed how sick the man who raised him was. The doctor said his heart had stopped, but somehow, Ettore’s thoughtless reasoning kept him alive a little longer.
The room was silent and dark.

When Mt. St. Helens erupted in Washington State, the surrounding ecosystem was pulverized into a barren land of sterilized ashes. Plants couldn’t grow there, and without them, animals were absent.

But eventually, slowly and surely, life returned. How did this happen? It could only occur after the arrival of invisible life.

This chapter has no definite name. Since this novel is structured for later publication, I'd prefer a chapter name. If any of you have suggestions after reading it I'd love that!

She fears the monsters she can see
But the monsters I see
Come from a fear hidden deep
Inside of me

The fear of tomorrow
Is a crippling one
Who hides neath my bed
Taunting me to run

The fear of my yesterday
Stands at my door
Sneering and saying
That I'll never be more

The fear of betrayal
Freezes my heart
It's impossible for me to love
I might be torn apart