poetry
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Publication – The Carpenter
Several of my Advent poems have been published by Agape Review, a newer Christian literary journal. Below is a link to one that has really stuck with me, as well as its text: “The Carpenter” This small pink being in my aching arms is not my own But I am now and ever wholly his. Continue reading
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Joseph’s Magnificat
My troubled soul shall magnify the LordWhose glory proves through my humiliation.May it be unto me according to his wordFor the promised hope of this, my own nation. The Master works through my humbled estateAs the fitting tool to smooth my splintered grain.He gives and takes away and by his greatCraft turns my lonesome loss Continue reading
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“Water, Water, Everywhere”
The value of poetry is often found in its ability to capture the core of nuanced situations. Prior to moving to Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I did some research on the area and was shocked to discover this article by The Gospel Coalition: It’s an article worth reading, at once eye-opening and encouraging. It lays bare Continue reading
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Surgery & Sanctification
The “wounded surgeon” works while I’m awake And only by compassion does not break The heart which beat so steady yet so dead While severed from the life of Him, the Head. The subject upon which His scalpel strikes Is the awful altar of my blood-bought life Which, once decked with sentimental blooms Has become Continue reading
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An Easter Rehearsal
I know my feet are prone to slip, unsure, So I play it again: Alleluia. And I know my hands may strike without measure, So I play it once more: Alleluia. But, worst, I know my heart is yet impure, So I pray it again: Alleluia, Amen. The organist and choristers know well The rehearsed Continue reading
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VII. The Blind Man (8:22-26)
Touch me, someone,That I might know you’re there! Greet me, anyone,So I am not aloneIn this dark, dark, darkness. I am begging,Begging for more than foodOr loose coins. It is light that I am starving for—The light of a presenceA light to show me outOf this eternal, internalDarkness. My heart yearnsEach morning and evening—Both are Continue reading
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VI. The Deaf Man (7:31-37)
I cannot tellWhat these gestures mean.Why do you all waveYour hands at me? I can only guess atThe words on your lipsAnd can only makeVain attemptsTo do as you do,To speak as you speak. By your wrinkled browsAnd worried looks,I know I am failing. I fail also to understand.Where are you taking me?Who is this man? Continue reading
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V. The Paralytic (2:1-12)
People just keep goingAround, across, Any way they can.Directionless,They do not notice the manWho motionless,Waits. They step over me, Their limbs stretching usefullyEven as they swarm the over-full room. But what can I do?Nothing but what I am doing:Lying here. Still, in one shattered piece,I feel the full weight of despairAnd the weight of the Continue reading
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IV. The Leper (1:40-45)
Unclean,I hide myself.Lest I am seenAnd sent away,Purged from the cityWhile dogs and rats are allowedTo stay and hide in its alleys, Infect its crevices. But they sayI am unclean.I do not argue;I am one of the twice-cursed onesWho cannot hide his sinsBeneath a cloak ofSmooth, clear skin,The whitened sepulchreOf an unblemished face. I am Continue reading
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III. Jairus’ Daughter (5:35-43)
As so often happens, life took priority over poetry. Indeed, I fear this is one of the reasons I am not destined to be the next Wordsworth or Dickinson; I am too quick to set my writing aside. Still, it is a least a little to my credit that I never abandon my writing forever! Continue reading
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I. The Man with the Withered Hand (Mark 3:1-6)
My bones ache with hunger.My eyes strain from seeking.But seeking what? Waiting for what?For nothing,For who would help me today?This is the sad irony of the Lord’s Day. Synagogues bustle and pockets are heavy,But hearts remain empty—Even more empty than my hand, For at least I would seek to fill mine. Another sad irony.I cannot.I Continue reading
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Be Thou My Breath
My favorite hymn is “Be Thou My Vision,” not merely because it is a beautiful Celtic melody but because I can use its verses to structure my day-to-day activities. When I rise and open my eyes, I can murmur, “Be Thou my vision.” As I drive to work in the soft morning light or home Continue reading
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Ryanne Molinari 