As feathered flocks soar across sinking sun,
and dusk descends on a silent sanctuary,
animals arrive at serene springs.
Fluttering feathers disturb solemn shadows;
rich reflections shine as birds brush,
beaks creating concentric rippling rings.
Silence settles on the haunted hollows.
I step across the stone threshold, feet moving slow as a heartbeat. The quiet of the church rises up to meet you.
You are looking for a place to rest your weight, looking for eyes that will see you and stay. Instead, there is the sharp sting of a turned back.It is the heaviest kind of silence when you offer your presence and receive a departure.
I stood at the threshold of the nave,my slow steps dragging the dust of the road.I reached out a hand toward your shadow ,but you turned your face away leaving me with the cold air of the aisle.Shepherd me, O Lord.
The staff feels far off in the dark.The valleys are deep, the paths are rocky and the sheep are so numerous.I am the one lagging at the very back wondering if the gate will shut before I reach it.
Will you look down at the bruised reed? Will you call the name I have forgotten how to speak? Or am I too frayed for the pasture ,too broken for the fold?
I am waiting by the altar rail asking if there is oil enough for my head asking if I am worth the search when the night grows long.
Before the dawn has painted sky or land,
My heart awakens, calling out your name,
And every quiet movement of your hand
Is light that puts my darkest fears to shame.
You are the gentle breath inside my chest,
The sacred altar where my troubles fall,
The only shore where wandering thoughts can rest,
My quiet sanctuary through it all.
I trace the tender lines upon your brow,
And thank the heavens that our paths have crossed;
To hold you in the stillness of the now
Is finding life where everything was lost.
No worldly treasure, fortune, title, power,
Could ever match the devotion that I feel;
With every passing day and fleeting hour,
My love grows only deeper, pure and real.
If I am granted all my remaining days,
I vow to give my life to honor yours,
To hold your heart in reverence and praise
As long as breath remains and spirit endures.
When Christians gather in the church
their hearts the Holy Spirit search,
to see if they have faithful been,
or merely show up to be seen.
And as the Holy Spirit moves
He convicts hearts, and sin reproves
Causing some saints to loudly sob
While others head just gently bob.
When with clear eyes, deep truths are seen
Sin is confessed, and hearts are clean
The Spirit stirs up sobs of joy
The kind that is without alloy.
Sometimes the sobs express the cares
a suffering saint in silence bears,
then when the altar call is made
the tear drops flow with no charade.
Sobs in the sanctuary are good,
they reveal what’s under the hood.
And as the Holy Spirit moves
Mere pretense His power removes.
Lord, let the sobs in torrents flow,
Your healing power, let it show.
So that when your saints leave the church
They’ll be on a celestial perch.
The Sanctuary
The wind grows cold, branches turning bare sending yellow leaves down in silent arcs.
Raindrops tap a steady rhythm on the window pane while inside, the world stays safe and still.The espresso machine hums its lazy tune and spiced cider flows in deep gold waves.
I hold the heavy ceramic cup, absorbing the heat watching steam rise in soft, slow curls as cinnamon and roasted beans sweeten the air. Every sip tastes like a quiet afternoon a brief pause while daylight fades into an early night.
The ceramic mug clicks against the wood, empty I push past the heavy glass door breaking the spell of cinnamon and steam.
The street greets me with a sharp, gray slap—traffic roaring, the wind pulling at my collar.
My shoulders tense under the weight of what waits next stepping back into the noise and the heavy, crowded day, but for a few blocks more the ghost of warm cider stays on my tongue ,a small, hidden shield against the frost.
Fall is here, its aroma stays upon my lips, warm soft fall sweater wrapped snuggly around my neck, untill tomorrow where my Sanctuary will once again beckon me
SANCTUARY SALE
EPSTEIN ABUSERS NO JAIL
JUSTICE SYSTEM FAIL
The gold ring slumbers on
the nightstand,
An unfaithful wife in a
broken marriage.
She walks the hallway with a
quiet tread,
And brings a stranger's scent
into her bed.
The sweet deceptions linger
on her tongue,
While all our sacred promises
are wrong.
She smiles at texts kept
hidden from her husband
sight,
And turns her back to meet
her lover at midnight.
The Architecture of her home
decays,
Lost in the fabric of her
deceitful, sinful, and shifting
ways.
Come bring me your tears from the mountain's stream,
carry them down over those high cheek bones;
rush to me with your dampened eyes that gleam,
in your pocket you're touching river stones.
I will help you awaken from this dream.
I'll lick those dewy drops of life's sorrow,
hold you close and feel your heart's rapid beat;
rest your head on my way to the morrow,
let me cradle you deep with my soul's heat.
Strength from each other we'll lend and borrow.
There's a place I want to show you, baby,
a place that's safe and full of love so sweet;
happy are the only tears you'll cry ... free,
a fortress I'll build us in which to entreat
a lasting forever where we can be.
Those stones that you carried down from so high,
we'll mount o'er the door to remind us when
tears fell like rain but did so swiftly dry;
we know the meaning ... to begin again.
Hold your hand in mine, let me hear you sigh.
Convalescing
From
“Civilization”
From the bloated, rude, crude, insatiable
Busy-for-naught
Businessmen,
Found me a plot
In a lost meadow
Where owls swoon
With dancing stars
And poplars rock
My hammock.
The world is turning furious and fast,
A story told in storms and sighs,
But I have left the shoreline of my past
And all the hollowness of my eyes.
Let others count the letters in the stone
And hug the coldness of a distant sign;
I found the boardwalk where You made Your throne,
And reached across the dark to gather mine.
Now take this weary heart and fold it deep,
Where mercy runs too thick for words to measure,
Past every promise that I couldn't keep,
Into the gold of Your unchanging treasure.
Oh, pull me closer than the breath I breathe,
Enfold the center till the boundaries break—
A multi-layered cocoon of pure relief,
Where love is all that stays alive, awake.
No curb can hold the bruises of the throw,
No winter chills in the nesting of Your wing;
I simply walk the way the wind will blow,
And let the silent heart begin to sing.
Wrapped up in You, with mercy all around,
The storm can roar against the outer sea
But in the middle, on this sacred ground,
There’s only Jesus, and the rest of me.
bird book lies near by
each presence marked bent corners
mother's sanctuary
chasing red and green
arms and legs
flips and flops,
meanwhile,
in the sanctuary, grieves
a wrestler soul,
devoid of win,
or injured by mat,
or a parent’s smackdown.
passing by
the hallway depths
of a rumbling sorrow!
he knows, nor cares,
that anyone is there.
his belly bared,
like an infant
attempting to wrestle,
from side to side,
hoping to escape.
my grandparents woods
a place i could hide
where all my secrets stay with stood
till this very day it still abides
Swimming is a moment of pure freedom
The water envelopes me
Holding me close like a gentle lover
with each stroke, I let go of the weight
that pressed down on me
The world above fades away
and I am left with the quiet rhythm of the water
In this moment, time loses all meaning
I am suspended between the surface
and the depths, a fleeting moment of peace
A sense of connection to something greater than myself
The water carries me and I am free
In its embrace, I find my solace
The world may be chaotic but
in the water, I am at peace
With each breath, I let go a little more
I let go of my fears, my doubts and my worries
I am left with the sensation
of the water against my skin
The feeling of weightlessness
The sense of being alive
Swimming in my sanctuary
My second place of refuge
My moment of freedom in the water
I am me!
Unencumbered and untethered
I swim and I am free
Written: May 20, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Silent One
1st place contest winner
*******************
Beneath the bastions of broken time,
moss-mantled memories murmur,
their whispers wound with winter’s weight,
their petals powdered into pale oblivion.
Yet in the orchard of absence,
where peaches perish and ivy coils,
my pulse still pounds—
a prayer pressed against the prison of stone.
Love lingers like lightning,
longing to lance the dark,
to carve a chorus from the cavern,
to kindle kisses in the kiln of night.
I long for honesty heedless,
for a heaven where truth is not tied down, where pledges aren't cloaked with
conceit,
but breathe, naked, unbroken.
But solitude sings its stubborn song.
Shields shine,
sanctuaries stand,
roses rise unseen,
Their perfume folded into lost air.
Knock, if you dare-
Not to conquer,
but to hold.
Bring birdsong, not battle.
Bring tenderness, not tyranny.
I will glimpse—
the sanctuary of passion,
the grace garden,
where every rose
radiates with the elixir
of its existence.
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