Lori Hershberger: Meditations of the Aunt
For, lo, children are an Heritage of the Lord
As Arrows in the Hand of a Mighty One
Happy is he who hath his Quiver full
For they are like Olive Plants, the Offspring of Fruitful Vines; Continue reading . . . “Lori Hershberger: Meditations of the Aunt”
Richard Stoltzfoos: Seventh Summer
And the evening and the morning were the first day. —Gen. 1.5
When resurrection’s rest has come,
And sundown started the Sabbath day, Continue reading . . . “Richard Stoltzfoos: Seventh Summer”
His bedroll hoisted on sagging shoulders
One foot before the other—
Deliberately—
South-bound on 501 Continue reading . . . “Gary Yoder: Imago Dei”
I kiss the son—an unexpected spark, warm
after the weary watching of this barren night.
Dead men and women stand on their heads in the pews around us,
indexes outstretched, rigorous, unyielding. Continue reading . . . “Christopher Good: Psalm 2”
Karen Yoder: Nobody Listens to Andrew
Bumbling jokes
Fumbling tongues
Jumbling souls
Voices jangle in the hollow hall Continue reading . . . “Karen Yoder: Nobody Listens to Andrew”
Why is a human being born
When worlds are wide
And graves are short,
Time dangling like the clothes we’ve worn? Continue reading . . . “Joella Wadel: Thrown”
The moon is nesting in the trees
Beyond the gleaming bay.
She’s crossing lacy strands of light
Leftover from today. Continue reading . . . “Emily Gingrich: Bayside”
Red clay—
Red Virginia clay,
Pounded hard as iron
By chained feet: Continue reading . . . “Gary Yoder: Red Clay”
Which words can seize your beauty, rising moon?
You ride your circuit up across the sky.
You’re over-written, over-poetized…
Will faulty pen marks leave you minimized? Continue reading . . . “Emily Gingrich: Rising Moon”
Darren Wadel: Boundaries of Time
“To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under heaven.” —Ecclesiastes 3:1
January
and the clock stands still.
The gong of the bell swings
in the stiff, subzero breeze Continue reading . . . “Darren Wadel: Boundaries of Time”
Laurie Klein: After the Stem Cell Transplant
Belated news feels like warmth, one breath
through a lone trumpet heralding dawn,
evoking, deep in the bones, a sensation
of turning. Or is it tidal . . . a rising Continue reading . . . “Laurie Klein: After the Stem Cell Transplant”
Sleep, like a curtain concealing
An approaching whirlwind,
Comes intermittently,
Bringing a short reprieve Continue reading . . . “Gary Yoder: The Sleep of Job”
So long now have I walked with loneliness
I remember not when he first walked with me:
Silent along the avenues of all the arching years,
On roads straight through sunlit fields and rows of maples, Continue reading . . . “Lori Hershberger: Loneliness”
An angry Blast came blowing from the arctic;
He paused when Earth returned a soft reply.
The trees a-swell with baby buds smiled lightly,
The freshets chuckled ballads blithe and sprightly, Continue reading . . . “Sarah Martin: Spring’s Answer”
A swirling susurration of soaring wings
Across the sky, there’s a pattern there, a message
In the way they fly, if I only knew the language…
I don’t know why but it keeps eluding me. Continue reading . . . “Myra Wollman: Flight”
Before I sleep,
Before this dust returns,
Before I leave myself—
This temple curiously crafted, Continue reading . . . “Gary Yoder: Preparation”
She will travel the world,
See the sights through her mind,
Learn of peasants and kingdoms,
Tyrant leaders and kind. Continue reading . . . “Emily Miller: First Grader”
The mutterings of war are in the north.
The winter has been bitter with our tears.
Now waken in the dark, and hear the rain
that pours down with the turning of the year. Continue reading . . . “Claudia Lehman: February 2022”
Lynn Michael Martin: The Soothsayer
For seven years I walked with demon guides,
divining deathless words for mortal men;
tales of dark wisdom they gave me besides,
draining my soul and filling it again
with darknesses of suffocating airs— Continue reading . . . “Lynn Michael Martin: The Soothsayer”
Such shrouds of darkness cloak our land.
I am but dust; my feeble hand
Sin, grief, and sorrow cannot bear;
True Christlike love I cannot share. Continue reading . . . “Melodie Dyck: Christ in Shoes”
