Prayers Needed


This is not life-threatening, but my family and I are lost right now, with very little energy to find our way. Please warriors, brothers and sisters, pilgrim church, anyone who has ears to hear, we just ask for a moment of the kind of kindness we learned in heaven to be directed toward a family in need. Thank you.

Amaya Engleking

August Rainbows

Creede Rainbow

Photo by Amaya Engleking

Just out of the shower, baby in bed, husband putting toddler to sleep; I look down the hall to see the front room awash in that lemon-zest glow that is common of the dawn, but a prized gift for bedtime.  Still seeing a light rain to the west where the sun is ready to slip behind the mountains, without hesitating I grab the camera and bolt out the kitchen door, sure there will be a heaven-sent rainbow in this reminding light. Read More

Deep I (Meditation on the Psalms: II)

In the womb I talk with my hands

And every sign is another stanza

Of the poem, of our home

We all delight in as a dance

Meditating on it day and night

Communing with our hearts’ lamplight

Surrendered will, lying still

We become the heavenly right

For man has shamed oft before

The blessed counsel of the poor

Because the Lord is their reward

And place of refuge forevermore Read More

Homesick Angel

Pearl2

‘Pearl’ by Amaya Engleking

Words are nutrients for the lone poet. She who, in loving devotion, asks for revelations from God, is shown the brilliant design in golden fish-scale scapes layered as soft pearly flakes– rising miracles from the cracked crust of the earth, with each new world existing both for, and because of, divine love. She dips into one pool and each ripple is a new-born dream, manifest as human on earth, as star in sky, as song in space. Read More

Brocade

Broken brocade;

Where do I put this sequin when the sequence

Falls like notes from the cellar door?

On my knees searching on the dirty waxed floor

Hands graze gypsy mambo scuff-marks

And dirty martini olive-swords.

Candles glow in distant red bulbs,

My search waxes dim.

How does poetry save the world like God? Read More

A Conversion

hunanpollution

Dark day in Hengyang, small city in the middle of China. Five million small. Mao Zedong from a nearby city. The dishwater sky blending right into the slate-gray outline of the industrial city. Dismal to view from the little metal balcony, and even more disgusting to go forth into the leaden din. Last time I was in the country I swore I’d never teach English and least of all to middle-schoolers. But that’s what I was doing in this city where I saw a homeless man masturbate in front of an elementary school. Right outside the gate through which passed hundreds of pigtails and oversized backpacks on tiny bodies. Read More