sorrow

  • Steal This Bible

    Steal this Bible from Days Inn!reads the stickeron the King James Biblefrom the bedside standin the motel where he's stoppedin the middle of Nebraskaon the cold side of I-80. Neon glows through the rain-streaked window,falls on the words of the… Continue reading

  • Woven Together

    We may share joy;we most certainly sharethe warp and woofof sorrow. Our woundedness weaves us one.  Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved. Continue reading

  • To Change the World

    To acknowledge life's sadness    is not to be conquered by it.One can nod one's head    to the inevitability of loss,but turn and embrace grace, compassion, hope, joy… This is the course of those who change the world–and the world yet to come. Text… Continue reading

  • Christmas Day

    At the museum,a pensive Josephgazes down at his infant son,father's soft, brown beardagainst the baby's cheek,their skin impossibly smooth and porcelain fragile. Joseph's brocaded, burgundy robeembraces them both.Thin lines of gold radiate outwardfrom behind their heads,and they are framed by a rectangle… Continue reading

  • “Am I Wise?” You Ask

    "Am I wise?" you ask. If you talk too long or loudly,    likely not.If you have more answers than questions,    likely not.If you seek illumination from without,    likely not.If you dance self-consciously and without abandon…        or not at all,    likely not.If you arrive… Continue reading

  • Forgive Me

    Forgive me:I have belittled you.I have mocked and laughed at you.I have imagined your shortcomings were not my own,and freed of responsibility for our shared insanity,     made it yours alone.But it isn't yours alone–    it may not be yours at all.… Continue reading

  • Holiday for the Hurting

    Good Friday is the one holiday designed for those who hurt, for the lonely, the sick, the dying, the alienated, the outcast, the confused, the disenfranchised. Here is God, being exactly all those things, feeling all of that, understanding it… Continue reading