Washed Away

you were nothing more

than sidewalk chalk,

a wedge of yellow for moon

a patch of blue for sea

briefly existing,

shifting shapes

beneath the breeze,

dusting concrete

until summer rains

washed you clean away

I’m Made of Sterner Stuff

you thought you cut me

with your bladed words

but I’m made of sterner stuff

you thought you broke me

with your heavy hands

but I’m made of sterner stuff

see, you didn’t know

I’m made from father

who worked with broken ribs

and you didn’t know

I’m made from mother

who tended six strong kids

my ancestral blood

holds a thousand greats

Irish and Cherokee

hunters, bakers, saints

one with soil and sun

fierce as the land they sowed

through birth after birth

we came out roaring,

lions in the making

you thought you held me

pinned beneath your weight

but I’m made of sterner stuff

you thought you caged me

with vows and golden rings

but I’m made of sterner stuff

Petitions

dust in the corners

make the church mice sneeze,

each bench as hard as time,

as unyielding as stiff-backed hymnals,

but I keep coming back,

keep looking for God

in the stained glass windows,

in the pillars engraved with saints,

in the notes that float from organ pipes,

in the smoke of candles drifting toward

the open beams.