The 60-Second Sabbath

security

  • The Color of God, 1

    What color is God? God is warm, earth tones    yellows, oranges, brownsthe color of nurture    birds nests and polished oak dining tablessun-tanned hands that reach, hold, lift    an open doorway on a snowy nightgolden light spilling onto… Continue reading

  • The Womb

    I'm in the marketfor a new womb;I'm ready to begin again.  They aren't sold on Amazon;I checked. One can a rent a wombif you're looking to have a babybut can't do it yourself…or opt not to. But I seek a… Continue reading

  • The House

    I built the housesolidlyand strong–heavy shutters guard the windows,strong bolts secure the doors–an unmovable house,unshakably safe. I stand on the street,admiring my house,my sturdy, inpenetrable house.  An old woman creaks by,leaning on her walker;"Quite the house," she says. "Yes," I… Continue reading

  • Limerick

    The grace of God is unbounded;it's depths have yet to be sounded    no matter the fall,    the trip or the stall,by Love we're relentlessly hounded. Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved. Continue reading

  • Safety

    Stop advising.Lend your chest;let me therein silence rest Wrap your arms;hold me tight;that's my simpleneed tonight. Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.   Continue reading

  • Unlike the Dog

    Unlike the dog,who resents being crated for the night,I ease willinglyinto my four-poster,where metal trellis and faux vines frame me,and I am angel safe. From the four upper railshang talismans: a string of Tibetan prayer bells–tiny and tingling–scatter intentions; a… Continue reading

  • I Sell My Soul

    I sell my soulin the anxious search for security. What wondrous, secret knowledgemust the homeless hold,who live each dayat the fingertips of God? Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved. Continue reading

  • My Hand Moves

    My hand moves under the dark covers… Continue reading

  • Riding Home

    I am a child.I am in the backseat of my parent's pale-blue Plymouth.I am rocked asleep    with the drum of rain on the roof,    with the rythmic slap of the wipers,    with the certainty that fills warm spaces        as they hurtle along night's wet highways.… Continue reading

  • Write Your Own Blog! (Part 1)

    I'm staying for a few days with the Sisters of Loretto at their Spirituality Center southwest of Denver. In my absence, feel free to complete today's blog yourself. You might respond to this quote from Sister Miriam Therese Winter (author… Continue reading