every child is a glass slipper
but not every woman
wants to wear it
if only they knew
the joy of it fitting
the music of life
played to the beat of a heart
the rhythm of a giggle
the sound of a sneeze
the movement of breath
the chords of sleeping
all recorded
within the heart
of the woman wearing
the glass slipper

“The Nursery”

thank God my past is dead
and my heart is new

I love when I meet people
and let them know me
and they say
I never would’ve guessed

the gift of becoming love
is that you have your whole life
to love others well

which creates healing
soothes discomfort
opens the door
to be set free

life’s taken a turn
of clarity
instead of being swept off my feet
who can I sweep off their feet

seven children
bore four
killed three

oh how I love
who’s in front of me
and Who’d inside of me
loving those in front of Him