soulmate: a heart won

when I have found him whom my heart loves,

he will first love me with his eyes, deeply

and tenderly finding my soul hidden there.

and when my eyes answer to his and his to mine,

then coming to me, my beloved, coming at last to me

will be the haven to my storm, the candle to my flame

and the love to my longing. my beloved, my own.



“untouchable” – a poem

every day they spit at me, a sinner and a whore

they hold their robes aside and shrink from me,

the untouchable, with unspoken curses and disgust

yet, I know their whitewashed secrets, and I laugh

to see their haughty shame, avoiding my calls

pretending with urgency that they are clean.

today  I met a man who met my eyes clearly

no haunted lust, just purest knowing of me

and I, the untouchable,  met  true love.

news in town said He was with those  rabbis

the ones that hate women such as me.

never have I entered there, for I am untouchable

but I took my only wealth and poured it on Him

He, the first worthy man in my lonely life

I sobbed as He gazed, loving my untouchable touch

valley of vision IV

Thou great I AM,

Fill my mind with elevation and grandeur at the thought of a Being

with whom one day is as a thousand years,

and a thousand years as one day.

A mighty God who, amidst the lapse of worlds,

and the revolution of empires,

feels no variableness,

but is glorious in immortality.

May I rejoice that, while men die, the Lord lives;

that, while all creatures are broken reeds,

empty cisterns,

fading flowers,

withering grass,

He is the Rock of Ages, the fountain of living waters.

sin: the enemy within

Dear God, it calls me,

Screaming whispers reach from within,

I lean shuddering, lusting, fearing

It seizes and will not let me go.

Will I flee? will I sink?

Insisting, dragging, poisoning, sweetening

Robed in fascination, swiftly comes.

My God! I cannot call, my will is dead

And poisoned in the thrall.

You killed the shadow

The sickening, thrilling darkness is dead

And cannot take me.

Loving you, I flee from myself

To completing, cleaning, filling goodness

And hide in the depths of you.

My God! Bringer of hope and fullness

Only staying, nourishing, loving one.

You cannot go.

Thankful, I stay and love the source of love

With my poor passion.

Eternal one in light, my own.

i have decided to journal in poetry

I found one of my many poem/prayers in an old notebook today… it tells me more about myself than all my daily journal entries ever will. This openness before God was a good place to be… I need to go back there again.

Father, today I pray without pretending.

the wrapped up niceties are gone,

and only rawness remains.

you know the deep end of me, anyway.

this moment, I pray not theology

but simply crave to recall my reason,

the purpose I have for remaining alive.

all I want, all I ask is to believe

that the invisible is worth more.

to see the invisible, I need to know

the solemn meaning of counting my all as loss.

to gain your fullness, I must be empty.

prayer poetry

But my love is frost and cold, ice and snow;

Let His love warm me,

lighten my burden,

be my heaven;

May it be more revealed to me in all its influences

that my love to Him might be more fervent and glowing;

Let the mighty tide of His everlasting love

cover to rocks of my sin and care;

Then let my spirit float above those things

which had else wrecked my life.


Make me more fruitful by living to that love,

my character becoming more beautiful every day.

If traces of Christ’s love-artistry be upon me,

may he work upon me with his divine brush

until the complete image be obtained

and I be made a complete image of him, my master.

           -Valley of Vision