Poetry
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Stubborn Justice
Reformation Sunday always startles me into awe. As a staunch rule-follower, I am constantly shocked by the reminder of God’s grace in Christ. Of course, while I recognize the futility of my own attempts at righteousness, I must resist the urge to let the pendulum swing the other way—from legalism to liberalism. Recognizing that my… Continue reading
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Organ Sonnet 1
Until sent stepping down the pedals—scalar,My feet were not sure of their footing hereBut then, at once, my most pressing fearBecame naught but a small organ failure! And once my frigid fingers found their noteI settled into newfound harmonyIn a choir which turned much-loved companyAnd rendered far-off home not so remote. But now, removed, another… Continue reading
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Two Poems for St. Andrew’s
When I moved to St. Andrew’s, Scotland to pursue my master’s degree, I was convinced that I would love that little town of stone and sea with my whole being. I was sure that falling in love with its historic ruins, its adorable streets, and its rain-purified air would be simple. Yet I found myself… Continue reading
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Lack to Love: a sonnet
Inspired by C.S. Lewis’ The Four Loves: My moon-sick eyes I turn from Sun above; Too brilliant, let me see yet silhouettes And trace them on my heart lest I forget These shades that show the shape of Light, my love. Permit that I might feel those phantom limbs Of One I neither see nor now… Continue reading
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First Frost
The Scottish people may not have been big fans, but this Arizona girl found the first frost enchanting. (Until she almost slipped on ice during her run, that is.) His kiss was cold, pinking my pale face As he sucked my breath away in steaming plumes; But smooth and crystalline as spider’s lace, Beneath my… Continue reading
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The Philanthropist
He began the fall in wealth, His arms hanging heavy with green, new-money Made in spring. It was the cash that grows on trees: Easily spent and easily made, Budded by summer and Minted by the gold-standard sun. Investing at Autumn’s asking, He lays a few leavings in her chill-bone hands But scatters the rest… Continue reading
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Hallow Hill
The hill was ghostly. Even before finding an old sign revealing its history as an early Christian burial site, I could sense the tension between life and death in the air that chilled my face. It was a place pulsing with potential, yet quiet and lonely as a sleeping giant. Insignificance and eternity confronted me… Continue reading
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Poetic Love
A year ago today I picked up a copy of Rupi Kaur’s Milk and Honey in a Waterstones in Cambridge. I read it cover-to-cover without sitting and — admittedly — without purchasing it. I was intrigued, but, when I closed it and placed it back on its display, I realized that the fascination I’d felt with… Continue reading
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Two Bluebirds
I’ve been rereading Ray Bradbury’s (…may he rest in peace…so sayeth we all…) Fahrenheit 451. Actually, I’m listening to it on Audible; there is a performance of it by Tim Robbins which literally makes me weep. It’s THAT good. Anyway, as I revisit this all-too-prophetic story of a society so frightened by what is uncomfortable, challenging, or… Continue reading
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Poems and a Creek and Such (revisiting an old spot of time)
When I was a freshman in college, I had the not-uncommon experience of feeling 150682234% overwhelmed. It was honestly a feat of grace and strength that I stuck it out, but by the second semester, how happy I was that I did! As that terrified, homesick 18-year-old, I went on a choir retreat and nearly… Continue reading
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Ryanne Molinari 