Dear Friend, I see you cringing when the big-name preacher shouts about sin, but doesn’t show love. I feel your insides turning into nauseating twists, as if sheer volume and persistence can convince people that they should follow. I cry along with you, those hot tears, when we witness together the hateful spouting of those …
Broken, Happy People [on Hell & Holy Messes]
It’s a funny thing, not believing in Hell, or an afterlife at all, sometimes. It’s not something I think we can know for sure, this side of death, so I’m in between at the moment. In the midst of The Sorting. Plus, It’s not really something to bring up in polite conversation. Allude to a …
Mirror [a poem of maybes, for Easter]
Maybe the cross is a mirror and in it we see our thirst for blood, for revenge, our need for a scapegoat and our desire for someone to blame. Maybe we see ourselves when we hold up this instrument of torture and gore that some inexplicably see beauty in, maybe the beauty of it is …
In the Darkness [thoughts on PND and faith]
I didn’t choose the darkness; I don’t think it chose me either. I simply found myself in a gradual twilight, at the inevitable turning of the earth away from the day, toward the night. The sun slowly set behind me, the shadows lengthened, a dense fog descended in the chill, and I lost the trail …
Be Kind, Use Nice Words, Be Gentle
In these times when everybody seems to be shouting at somebody, and nobody is actually listening to anybody but themselves, perhaps it’s time for us all to remember to Be Kind, Use Nice Words, Be Gentle. Each other is all we’ve got, regardless of race, religion, gender, politics or sexuality. We need to spend more …
Hello? It’s Me.
I’ve been wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet… Jokes. I’ll meet you, Adele, but only if you introduce me to whoever does your brows. So anyway, I haven’t written publicly for a really long time. (My last post was way back in August – you can read it here. It’s still …
Empty Shoes [or, when I can no longer carry everything]
The road in the end taking the path the sun had taken, into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way to your future now but the way your shadow could take walking before you across water, going where shadows go This is …
midnight
Midnight folds into a new day that looks and feels just like the old one; but the slow arc of the moon creates a silver path to follow © B Morel, 2014 A New Year’s beacon of hope for all those who have traversed a hard year… May you find joyful moments in the year …
promise [or, when these are the only gifts i have to give]
When the books are folded closed on Christmas Eve, and we try to untangle ourselves from the muddle of competing narratives of a child born in the dirt and pain and hope, and of innocent assertions that maybe Santa lives in your tummy, too. And we leave hanging in the air like baubles, your wonderings …
storm
Sometimes the only cure is to create. The grinding gears of a frustrated soul churn the waters of poetry and sets fingers afire. You are a creative being. Within you is that fire, that water, that earth. That wind that blows when pressure systems build and meet in the atmosphere. Droplets fall to the …
