Even if we stay in Christian community, like I did, healing can take years. Sadly, that feeling of not belonging still runs deep in my veins. 

However, the feeling also developed into a blue hot flame like the one that once burned my arm. It now fires in my soul every day.

A poem about a weekend with old and new friends at a spiritual formation conference in Wichita in 2024.

Art box, Airbnb hastily “cleaned,”

All will be well,

Books backlit in a window, books and more books,

Boundaries, bed bugs, belonging.

Cinnamon brooms,

Coffee in hand-sized cups with sippy lids, chaos-capable,

A poem about reconnecting as close as a pandemic will allow:

Smiles, big eyes.

How the heck have you been?

Delight of recognition,

A triad, a row of connection, through three car windows