Photo: K. Dagen

Photo: K. Dagen


do you send out
the ones you choose
into the wilderness -
like john, like us,
searching for zion -
so that we may know
what it’s like to be fiercely alone
(sometimes in a sea of faces)
and feel desperately lost
(sometimes in dark and crowded spaces)
like your son, like jesus?

for the world and
full of love,
but so alone,
your only son.

i love you that
you sent a child
to rescue all these
hearts gone wild.

sometimes i fear
my heart’s gone wild.


Photo: K. Dagen

Photo: K. Dagen

“the world is so dark
and we need you again.”
thought john the baptist,
breathing out, breathing in
the desert air, nestled deep in camel hair,
lighting up the way before him;
the paths left behind a little more straight
a little more smooth, and a little less dim.

alone in the night,
how did he feel?
the first of the prophets
after four hundred years
of silence and waiting,
darkness and hope and anticipating?

himself a light
proclaiming the light,
that had already been born that night
some thirty years before, not long behind him,
both sent by the wind and spirit-minded.

before you come again, i wonder
will there be another one that thunders
in the spirit of elijah
to ready us and steady us
and light up this crooked world before us?

but that spirit’s been here
for two thousand years
destroying hard hearts and drying up tears
lighting up cities, illuminating fears,
giving us breath and opening our ears,
until that one day, one final collision,
before this valley of the shadow of death
becomes the everlasting bright-lit valley of vision.


Photo: K. Dagen

Photo: K. Dagen

it’s hard to write about the night
when the room i sit in is full of peaceful natural light,
and the company i dwell beside
in my home and in my life
is full to the brim with intentionality,
knowing even when i’m in the dark
i can send a call
down the street or down the hall,
and someone will come close to me.

even still, the night comes earlier now,
and i can still remember how
some years it was so hard to get through
the winter because it was bleak and dim
and there was no one to talk to;
awaiting and waiting,
longing to enter
the spring; the hope of life and bloom
and better things.

this year i’m settling in to this space
that may be a bit dark,
but allows for the grace
to rest and expect,
to pause and remain,
and abide in your love.
god, come again.
god, be the spark.
i’ll be the flame.

the world is so dark
and we need you again.


le Lorraine, Louis Joseph. “King David Kneeling in Penitence.”

le Lorraine, Louis Joseph. “King David Kneeling in Penitence.”

david came to gaze before you,
both emboldened and afraid,
by all which had been spoken of,
what you had set in place.

looking deep into your face
he wondered, gently, at his place;
speechless yet so full of praise,
considering tomorrow-days.

and he could see her, then, so clearly;
a daughter of future generations,
the mother of the one you promised
embracing a small lover of the nations.

he pondered all this in his heart
just like that girl would do.
“hold her in your focus, god!
sustain her in your view.”

i wonder what could come from me;
by love, grafted in to this great story,
forgiven, and allowed to be
a tiny sprout on jesse’s tree.

david seemed to understand
we’re only carriers of glory
and when david prayed for her that day,
he also prayed for me.

Inspired By: 2 Samuel 7:18-29