Sonic Boom, Empty Tomb

Photography via Osttirol.com

In the little stone church, I did hear what Holy Spirit was saying to the Church and the power of grace shook the rocks and Rocky Mountains and leveled my understanding. It is the sadness of the world that there are people who look into the tomb and see a dead body. I was dead for so many years because that is what I saw. My own reflection, could it be? At the nuclear level there are two of us on earth: the one who sees death and the one who sees an empty tomb.

2013, Amaya Engleking 

May Baby, A Year Later

Photography by Amaya Engleking

“Little Lomy Loo” turns one today and she’s wobbling around pretending she’s Janis Joplin with her deep “blues” scowl she’s had since infancy, or eating dirt or dandelions, or giving me open-mouth, ready-to-nurse kisses on my cheekbone. And believe it or not, I’m nostalgic for her unmedicated, home water birth! Here is the full story for anyone needing the inspiration or who is curious about the miracle of birth.

Gospel Isosceles

madre-naturaleza-necesitodetodos1

My May baby. As you made the conviction that you were ready to be born into this world and slip today, May 19, 2016 from eternity into this strange design of time and measures, I ate the first cherries of the season. Once again and forever, these cherries taste sweeter when I talk to God.

At around 12:45am, some cramping woke me up but I didn’t think much of it since I’d been having irregular cramping for weeks. Plus, my due date was still three days away and I’d been convinced because of Qohelet’s birth that there was no way this baby was going to play by the rules either. But after about an hour of laying in the dark under almost-full moon-shine while the mild rushes came about every ten minutes or so, I asked Joshua not to go to work today. We heard Qoey stirring so while my…

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Baptism 


I drove up to the mountains sensing freedom, but drove past my intended destination of the hot springs. Something was moving me, I was not in control but I was enveloped in complete peace. The interstate turned into an off-ramp, the pavement turned into dirt, and the 4-wheel drive turned into 2-leg only. Where I could no longer drive up the snowy and muddy road, on the stereo Roberta Flack was singing “Killing Me Softly” and I, content with my own slow death.  Read More

Dirge

Drawing by Guy Denning

Beyond tired of getting strung along by God. And the destination, only God knows; could be Calvary freakin Hill for all I know. Blindly dragged, hoping we’re on our last leg to paradise. Ha. Though further and further we trudge, to an off-key rusted trombone dirge, slooooww, yet never Read More

Suction

Art by Paul Gosch

Lord help to console hearts in this hour of grief on this day where hideous laughter comes too soon like junk to help us forget — not feel — pain. What is the word, this queer expression of thwarted happiness? Read More

Siren

She who needs saving

In my youth I was shown all the ways to you.  So vast and intricate, and in this wonder I stood paralyzed, unable to move toward you in terrible awe of the all-seeing eye design, dynamic and changeless.  In time I grew afraid Read More

Let There Be a Penitent Rapist

Art by Luiza Vizoli

His name was Tyrone.

Or was it Tyrese? What I do know is that it is a grace of God that the memory of his name was stolen from me too. Stolen along with that Fourth of July night in Billings, the year I turned twenty-one, when he dropped a date-rape pill into my drink. There weren’t any fireworks that night.
Among the few moments of relative lucidity that night were these: Read More