I Don’t Just Want To Read About The Ocean
I want to experience its rushing tide, foaming, reaching toward my bare feet. I want to breathe in its damp cool air, squint against the infinite points of reflection, marvel at the way it forms the horizon. I want to taste its salt on my lips, feel the weight of it against my skin as it carries my body with ease. I want to sit at its shore, my senses consumed, my busy mind captivated by its roar, awake and alive with wonder. In the same way, I don’t just want to read about God. I want to believe that every cell in my body is a reflection of Him. That my heart already knows His love. That my senses are already attuned to the goodness of His character. I want to settle in, resting in the truth that all I need to do is become still enough to listen, to feel, to notice how He is guiding me through the rush of this life, steady and strong like the tide, leading me always home.
On Becoming
Can you stand in the middle of your womanhood, tethered to what you cannot change, bound to your hopes for tomorrow? Can you breathe here, trusting this moment, this day to lead you forward— trusting God with the person you are becoming?
Like Water
Like water, you never stop 
      moving, searching, filling 
          the spaces inside our thirsty 
          souls, again and again, until 
     we finally stop trying to drink 
from a dry source—an empty cup.
Until we wrench our hearts open 
          to receive the goodness 
                we fought to believe in—
                goodness in abundance. 
           Like water, you are constant,
   you saturate our unbelief,
    you shape us [gradually] 
            into the people you created 
                      us to be.




I don't just want to read poetry, I want to read yours.
I think I’d like your poems as prints on my wall. Very much so.