Preview of my Next Book

I don’t talk about my faith a ton on the blog. Not that I am ashamed of it but it’s something I usually I don’t delve too deep into as most people are probably here for writing tips and random writing experiments. BUT when I write poetry, it tends to spill out in all its honest glory. My next poetry book is all about love lost and God. The heartbreak stuff, the deep stuff, the wrestling-through-questions kind of stuff. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve been with my writing in a while, admittedly.

I wanted to give you a little sneak peek. If this sounds like your cup of tea at all, feel free to keep reading. If not, see ya in the next post, I’ll not hold it against you 😉

This poem came from one of those thoughts that just wrecks you in the best way: Do you think Jesus, when He prayed in the garden, thought about Adam and Eve? About walking with them in the cool of the day? And did He already know that His sacrifice would reach all the way back to redeem even them?

I had never considered that before and when I did, the parallel seemed interesting. So, naturally, I wrote a poem about it.

Here it is: The Tale of Two Gardens

The Tale of Two Gardens

Do you think, when Christ knelt in the garden all alone,

That He thought of the first breath, or the first bone?

Of footsteps that walked on soil in the cool of the day

Two souls unashamed, then two led astray.

Did He think of the fruit, the reaching of hands,

Yearning beyond what he commands.

Of fig leaves stitched with a shiver of dread,

Of paradise lost, and the very first tears ever shed?

Did he think of their conversations with his first own,

As He whispered His prayer in that garden of stone?

Did He see not just thorns but a tree once denied,

Where mercy was given, but they were not yet justified.

He sweat drops of blood where they once walked free,

But even then, grace reached backward, far beyond what we see.

Redemption is deeper than we understand.

It touches the first folly of humans, the Savior’s extended hand.

And Father, perhaps, when night turned to day,

And the stone rolled back from where Love chose to stay,

The echo of Eden rang sweet through the skies,

For even the first ones were brought back to life.

The Fairytale We All Live: A Poem

I.

The chandeliers drip with crystal

tonight, the kingdom spins.

The ballroom a lake of glass and reflections,

Filled with perfume and possibility.

She wears a gown of wishes,

And a veil of desire, longing.

A crown, though lovely, sits heavy.

II.

First comes Sorrow,

cloaked in deep blue,

his fingers cold.

He was like dancing with a fine mist,

Wrapping round then gone.

speaks in poems and sighs.
“Stay with me,” he whispers. “I’ll understand you better than most.”

III.

Next is Riches

gold threaded through a wide smile,

he smells of coins,

conquest is his game.

He spins her fast,

so fast she forgets her own name.

“I can give you everything,” he hums. “You’ll never need again.”

IV.

Then Pride,
in a tailored suit that sounds like applause

when ruffled.

Mirrors in his eyes he says to her,

“With meYou’ll be seen. You’ll be known.”

They waltz among the envious glances and the Princess

is tempted.

But she is dizzy from the asking.

Her feet ache from the circling.

V.

Then

a quiet man,

Silent as the night,

simple coat,

scars in his palms.

Crown of vines…or even barbs?

no entourage.

“May I?”

They dance.

No promises.

No bargains.

Just the hush of a heartbeat

in time with her own.

When the music slows,

And the night comes to a close,

he does not ask for her hand.

He only thanks her for the dance.

She watches him leave the floor,

A hush over her spirit,

And she wonders

if she might choose him.