[this piece has been redacted for publication in my school's literary journal!]

Wonderful counselor, almighty God;
Beginning and ending: creator of time.
You are the comforter and the rod;
Yet your punishment is deserved by far.
Your grace reaches farther than I imagine,
Your truth will be upheld through trials.
Though your truth threatens my life
I will remain true, by your grace I will stand.
I want to feel Your peace, know Your love,
I want to understand Your grace,
To use my life for Your glory; to save a life,
Lay down my liberty, if I need to.
When I think of the murder of babies,

i would say

i would say that this house is
too chilled in the winter air
and that i'd really just prefer
a really strong cup of coffee

but i'll take the tea all the same

i would say that you never
really told me why you picked
up your things and left
without any words

but i wouldn't understand anyway

i would say that this line is
taking too long--do you really
need to get that five cent
discount on hot dogs?

but it wouldn't accelerate the process

Love is patient, love is kind,
It is not a word, not a mime.
Love is not a feeling, big, or small,
It's something more, if I recall.
There is no greater love than this:
What?! To die? Not give a kiss?
T'was with a kiss Christ was betrayed,
Soon before He His true love displayed.
It was on a cross that my Lord died,
T'was His love for me that pierced His side.
God sent down His only Son,
And He the victory has won.
The dove was the sign sent from above;
The sacrifice was His destiny of love.

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ EITHER GREATER LOVE OR A STRONG FAITH THEN DONT READ THIS UNTIL YOU HAVE. :D

“Just let me eat my lunch in peace,” Jake murmured to the girl sitting on his left. Amélie smiled mildly and took a long drag from her cigarette, then threw her head back and blew the smoke up into the air—her signature move. “I’m a dragon,” she always used to say, and then she would laugh at her own joke. She didn’t speak this time—Jake didn’t think she could.

I. Happy
A couple got engaged
on top of the rock where I
celebrated my birthday.
They picked up the rose petals
that he had laid down for her,
and when I walked by I saw them
looking at each other as if
no one else had ever existed,
and I have never seen
a person look at another person
quite like that.
It made me want to
build something beautiful
like they did.

Someone I used to know
Died tonight
I just remember his
Shining face and simple dreams
Just yesterday we were eight or nine 
Or something 
Running like kids do
He called my dog stupid 
And I protested loudly
Truth or dare, my backyard
"do you like me?" 
"NO" obstinately but I lied
Just two months shy of 18 now, I think
Now he's gone and I didn't even 
Get to know him now as he is
Was 
He didn't even get to say goodbye
To the family who loved him
And he thought he was immortal

Picture a small child standing at your side, anywhere from eight to fifteen years old. Their arms are shrunken, and their belly is bloated. Their face is toneless and unimpassioned. Yet, these are not the most exceptional things about this child. Rather, grasped in their malnourished, clenched fists is a gun.

His breaths are copper leaves ripped from a cedar.
She hears the gale in his chest rattle the blinds.
Before the bed can roll over to smother them,
She heaves it off, hearing the storm slam into the window.
She tastes the salt in the downpour, feels
wetness speckle the backs of her hands.
“Abraham’s tree has its foot in the water”—
at this staticky song of the weather report,
she laces her boots with typha, lifts him
in one thin arm, and cradles him over miles of
sharp puddles. They slice at her soles, but she splashes