A Conversation with my Twelve Year Old Brother

"You know what's strange?"

"What?"

"I realized lately that the whole world is built on trust. That we trust people will pay us back, or that cars on the street won't swerve into our lane and kill us. That we trust people to keep their word, and keep their promises. The whole system of our world is very fragile and it kind of scares me.

It's what I think about when I have nothing else to think about."

Just something i Wrote

A wet tongue wets dry lips.
Dry hands race the others' cuticles.
Small God-given lines circle around the knuckles - one two three four five - tightly until they become white. Whites of eyes turn towards your dry hands and newly wet lips -
analyzing and underestimating and wondering.
One pair of eyes - one two - clench together in disgust and repulsion, followed by
several damp tongues pointed your way.
Your dry white skin - one - turns red red red turns hot hot hot.
Socks stick to your feet and knees stick to
each other, as if there isn't a way to face this alone.
Alone - one. Your heart - one - pounds so loudly that
 your ears - one two - can't comprehend what the
new white eyes and dry lips are saying.

Everything Beneath by Edye P

“we have yet to break the surface”

I whispered

after hours of scratching the stars away

from the sky with my fingertips

to cusp them inside of my hands

and feel their light.

I had every intention of stripping

the darkness from the night –

of pulling the constellations away

from their imprints within the atmosphere

to reveal Him

because years ago,

Father had told me that

“God is in everything”

and from then on,

I chose to move my body gently and eat slowly,

to swallow Eucharist

in the smallest of pieces

and nibble timidly around

the cores of peaches in the case that

He was within its pit, and

whenever I close my lips –

I can feel Him extend His legs,

pinned in all directions beneath my tongue,

shaping my words from biblical psalm,

pulling sin in strands of prayer

from the lining of my throat …

I can always feel him,

not heavy of a burden

but wise,

spread evenly about my skin,

in everything I see and touch …

holding Him, the stars, my pulse,

parts of Him,

inside my hand

realizing that no battle had ever

been fought and won alone.

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I rediscovered this poem the other day that I found in 2010. It is absolutely beautiful and I read it in awe nearly every time.