Healing Hands

When I realized that it was still the middle of the night, I knew something must be wrong with me. But You don't sleep. So, walking across the cold floor in three rediculous layers of socks, I crawled up into Your lap. "Daddy, I'm sick. Will you heal me, please?" You ran Your fingers through my long hair, placed kisses on my forehead, and touched my stumache, from whence came the pain. I rested my head against Your chest for a long, long time in agonizing bliss 'til at long last I fell asleep. You healed me in a better way.

I Met Her in the Forest

I met her in the forest and found her blood was green,
Her eyes always speaking, her voice seldom heard.
I crowned her like a tree and made her my queen.

I met her in the forest, her hair a golden vine,
Her smile rays of light, her laugh rustling leaves,
We blended like the dirt and she told me she was mine.

Between

This is something; pink clouds greet me all down the sidewalk.
I know this place--up that way is the high school,
Down the hill is the elementary. In between is
The steady roar of traffic, the steady moving of feet.

At the top of my street, I used to look down
To imagine myself in London. But trees have grown up
Between the houses now, sprinkled with squirrels.

I know this place--the pencil tight in my hand,
My heart going crazy with emotion, my mind with words.
I am everywhere and anywhere, even away from the sidewalk
On the road between two schools. Adventure on adventure.
Pink clouds in Africa. How is it that I feel so close to God
When I walk, when I write, when I dream?