A Cry of Mine

It’s a cry of mine, how each new sin

breaks me,

and in that broken state I watch

myself refuse Your call,


even Your always forgiving



Why choose an unclean heart

so prone to wander rocky


I whisper,

“Don’t follow,”

but of course You do &

here again is the cry,

“Don’t find me.”


You are that You are

& so You do find me.

You hold me

through sin’s deep grief

until I am still & know that

You are my God & I accept Your

mighty love.


I accept that each piece of this

broken heart will be

renewed but soft,

maybe a love offering

to be placed at

Your feet.


This state of being doesn’t change or pout;
that’s only my love, not tomorrow’s mutterings.
When I bleed, You give me alleluias.

in the pit of my making, grace & manna.
How could I love You more?
How travel across the vastness of Your love?

No, this state of being upholds my nature;
the very one You made for me,
the one in Your image.
Yet how sweet is Your likeness
& how beast-like mine, lumbering across
this too-short life?

But You love me beyond all hope.
To persuade me. You sent Jesus Himself
to carry a body awkward like mine,
to love me, to feel hunger, to suffer my terrors.
Yes, the Holy One did not carry His
flesh free from fear; He suffered my sufferings.

How could I love You more?
Oh how could You love me?
One of Your greatest mysteries
I greet only with trembling gratitude.
Yes Father I’m laid waste before You.
How could I love You more?

Ephesians 1:3-5


I slipped so easily from Your wings,

pretended You slept & would not see me gone.

And just as Eve believed a lie not her own,

I didn’t seek exile, just my own will.

You found me in the dark & drowning place;

And then I learned obedience,

You showed me grace, You made me a follower

of the Precious One & now I keep my eyes on Yours.

Before I was the rebellious creature weeping

at Your feet; I was Yours & pure of heart.

But I soaked my hands in my own blood

and saw tears on Your shining face.

Having once been carried upon His shoulders,

I now stay near His side – the nightmare

being another separation – unbearable to my soul.

Lord, You are holy, You gentle to me – as You

examine my heart’s secret accounts.

Our Father sees You when He looks at me,

Praise be His name, praise be His name, Amen.

The New Disciple


When I wander off,
misplace Your radical love,
my heart calls for You
and I fool myself, saying You didn’t
even notice I was gone.

I play with words like “want” & “need.”
Trying to memorize Your motives.
Older sisters say You don’t need us.
I think to myself that You made us
for the cool evening’s walking so
of course You needed us.
But what do I know;
I’m a new disciple & prone to fancy.

I compare You to my earthly parents,
not having any other North star,
& find them sorely lacking,
even though you made them too.
They lack Your grace & humor
not to mention Your endless patience with my antics
& constant questions.

I know disciples who count their time with You in decades;
I want to be as they are – wise, serene,loving to my kind.
I want to be of use, but my newness gives me away.
Please have patience with me, Lord,
I’m caught in Your web & I just now learned to quit the struggle
& let You catch me – catch me down here
trying to be good.

Counting the Cost


Before I counted the cost,

when I could feel nothing,

when I had neither eyes nor ears,

Your heart was my lifeline while

together we grew my own heart’s seed,

Piece by tiny piece.

When I did count the cost,

Your immeasureable love nearly took me out,

far away from where we lived,

I nearly went mad with need of You.

You cradled my head in your immense hands

And I slept, not angry or confused.

Now I need You to light my way back home

past the black forests, crouching beasts

& monsters of my own making.

I want to be in the cleanness of Your heaven,

Broken, I stagger to Your altar.

Bleeding, I call out to the One seated on Your right.

I hear now, Your angels singing songs of healing,

Gabriel ministers to me, hurt but not alone, home at last.

The Garden

close up of fruits hanging on tree
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Let us talk & walk in the cool of the evening

just as You did with them.

Tell me of Your plans, Your passions,

what You wish to breathe life into.

Let me be as she was; ignorant of

the serpent’s true being.

Keep me innocent & pure, like her,

not yet aware of evil.

Let us sit while I sing into being

the names of Your creation,

those whom You made for them to tend,

name, love & me? I delight in the feel of fur & feathers.

I delight also, in their language.

You gave them language & for a time they shared

times of speaking with your creatures.

But that was before he came & ruined our garden.

Look now; the sun is falling gently behind

this place we have named Earth.

I feel cold stares from some trees; they’re telling me

to return to my cave & dream no more about the

parents You gave me. They are long gone & I am an intruder here

though I do thank You for sharing your time with me

before I return to the hard, harsh life

that my parents bought me. Sleep well, Abba, sleep well.

Darkness Haiku

Anne Patay 5

Father, please cast
Your light upon my feet,
for it is dark & I am lost 
& without hope.

But even if I walk in Your shadow,
I will certainly be saved
from stones
& the wild beasts.




She’s my candle in darkness.

When some cold thing twists before her eyes

she hesitates, searching for strength

to keep going on.

She falls into a state of alone-ness,

then hides from me

until we find our way back to each other;

no grudges held, no burning anger.

Just our desperate longing for unity,

a fierce belief in the power of two.

My daughter, spiritual warrior that she is,

just wants her mother, a warm place to be.

I try to be warm for her, to melt the ice

we both carry, the cold that tells us lies.

It’s so hard to be what she needs, but I

aim to with all the Mother’s power

That can be mustered, though it’s strange,

foreign in my hands.

It leaves me sweating & shaken, killing shame

for her sake as she urges me on.


Angel Naomi


Like a boulder waiting, stern, ancient, alone,

sit my past sins.

Those who think a leopard’s spots never change

are wrong.

I’ve borne the weight of pleasures & false joy,

just to see how far I could go.

Like a cloud, breathing, quick, alone,

lies my salvation.

I only have to stretch out my

one good hand to grasp eternity’s joys.

How easy, to catch the Father’s hand

as I slingshot around the moon,

knowing He has gathered my angels ’round me.

Amen, Abba, I whisper.