Love’s Skin Grows Over The Bones Of A Broken Soul


“Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”

By Ken Woodley


On the midnight panes of my shattered places

dirt had been carelessly shoveled.

An afterthought.

Words spoken beneath clouds that had never stopped looking like monsters

were filled with ashes and dust.

Then even they left,

leaving only silence behind.

Until God spoke.

With lips, tongue, eyes and everything

God could think of.

God knelt and smoothed the dirt of my grave,

making little rows for the seeds

that God began to plant,

explaining what was inside them.

No more tears.

Just rain.

And God didn’t keep me waiting.

Something green grew up through the soil.

Other colors followed the skyward urge.

God lifted my broken landscape from the gravity

surrounding places so empty they had been left

unguarded by those who had broken the reflection

I’d been born with.

Weightlessly sang the flickers of light

until all of their pieces fit my voice

and I tasted the first rays of sunrise from God’s tongue

upon my lips,

swallowing without regret.

I wore only the light

God shone from within me,

luminous and laughing joy

at this surrender of my fragments

to the oneness of becoming

something more than I

—more than anyone but God—

ever imagined:


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