(Chris Sherman / Wikimedia Commons)
Advent
A star
floats in
the night.
It crowns
a tree
lit
by fire.
What we
aspire to
is smaller
than ourselves,
is infancy.
*
Psalm
I donate to you
my disaster of doubt,
enough to rout
a legion of believers.
I spill to you
a curious ink,
word-questioning up to the brink
of knowing.
To you I hand
the heaviest joy I’ve ever
known. I’ll never
get it back again.
In you I move.
In you, my timelessness,
I’ll find what I have missed.
I’ve missed you most.
I’ll give to you
my only gift,
my nothingness.
By nothing, Lord, the world will be made whole.
Published in the December 2026 issue: View Contents