life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

with a little light

Wonder and worship grows out of our own ability to acknowledge our smallness

it would take just a small miracle to light her fire once more…

she had drown so many times the light was never far from her Self…

the miracles she had seen allowed her to believe in,

walking on water,

flowing and free…


the ministry of madness

took off alongside the twirl of a Sufi,

the eyes of returning as a child…

a love song we all remember before entering Eternity…

and yet even here

where earth knows heavenly shadows

and time pieces of clocks,

we are given choices

to be will…

to be life

to know Spirit praying within us

and no worry as to where God lives

as holy is Home


Rev. Donna Knutson

bookended 12’s driving from day to night

Screw-topper-ed red backed up to screw-topper-ed white

snuggled in sand drinking that grit-lovely wine

kiss of the tide, moonlight on waters shine

holding your hand under that blue-blood moon

tongues find their way, licking sweet off the spoon

wind in our face, footprints upon the shore

losing our spot, finding its mark once more

circling round, stars crossing diamond gold

risking it all, life honors those most bold

sounds of the sea bringing back memories

touch of this day filled up with you and me

tugs at the heart, seasons of cold change soon

soon spring will find us, ready for love to bloom


Amy Lloyd


The moon followed

me home,

I know,

because I watched her

out the back window of the car.

Occasionally slipping

behind trees or buildings

like a secret agent,

she kept up with us


as I strained against

the straps of my seat

to meet her gaze.

I felt her interest

and her smile,

happy to have made

a new friend.


not afraid of the night,

but of the day

that would follow,

I was invited

by my Mother

to gaze on the Moon

outside our house,

and greet her as

Our Lady’s lamp

protecting all,

guiding all home,


passed down

from her Father,

whom I had never met,

but always felt

I knew.

He loved the Moon

she said.

There is hereditary

of the heart,

as well as of the blood,

it seems.

To this day

I miss her calls

that would begin always


Have you seen the Moon


For I cannot look up

at the Moon

without looking




I spent the night

in a wood made pure


by her presence,

and felt the life in every thing

stir and sing

and dance

in a wild celebration

that is hidden from

the day.

I sat stone still

and watched

Foxes play

about me

and a Badger

pass by like an ancient sage

busy on his own quest,

and I believed

in magic again

by her light.


I remember her

appearing during the

long drawn out days

of dry schooling,

and seeing her

still serenity

so far above

the awfulness

of that age

made me breathe out

a breath

I did not even know

I had been holding

on to for years.

She felt like a friend

checking in.

We greeted each other


as we do to this day,

each noticing the other

in the blessed acceptance

of being.


Sick and fevered I rose

gasping in the middle

of a winter’s night

and pulled back the curtain

to find her shining

over snow so newly fallen

that not a flake

had been disturbed,

but glowed in her gaze

cascading in curves

over a street I knew

but saw again

for the first time,

now softened

by snowlight’s reflection

of her blessed touch.

I looked and looked

at this gracious gift

of enchantment’s echo

until I felt I was being

looked at in turn

and blessed too.

In the morning,

I woke



I walked the pier

between my parents

on the night before

I left to follow

the path.

We watched her rise


in silence

and listened to a mandolin

playing in the distance.

We did not have to speak,

the Moon sang for us,

soul songs only we could hear.

Always remember this night,

they said later.

As if I could

do anything



Feeling bereft and lost

I caught sight of her

rising over a strange city

(Though I remember her,

and the feelings,

but not the city it was.)

and I did not feel lost


How could you be lost

when you are always

under her graced gaze?.

How could you be alone

when everyone you know

and love is beneath her blessing


I asked myself.


I saw her,

loom so large

as to almost

be alarming,

bedecked in harvest

gold and heavy seeming,

she lit the land beneath

so beautifully

that the cattle on the hills

cried out to her,

and the birds began their chorus

for a dawn

that was yet hours away.

I danced in her light

that night,

beneath the trees,

a slow sandaled

shuffle of monkish sort,

and bowed deeply

as she passed.

How could you not?

When all around

and within




of her compline



I watched her rise

sickle sharp

over Assisi.

As though making manifest

the unseen divine smile

hanging in the air

over this holy place

where joy was married

to peace in the song

of brother-sisterhood.

I smiled back and felt

the saint smile too

behind it all

and wondered what

his long silent nights

of prayer

must have been like

measured only by her dance

across the sky

slowly revealing her face

to him,

as grace comes gently

to fill us

only as we empty

and so seem

to disappear

into divine darkness

just like


Richard Hendricks

Candlemas Feb 2nd 2018

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