Are both tender and harsh.Nurturing and scolding.Encouraging and demoralizing.Sometimes intentional. Often random.Our stories are made possible as muchBy the people that have loved usAs by those that hurt us.Some hands wiped away our tearsAnd caressed our cheek in a tender kiss,Awakening us to the steadying affection of human touch.And then there are hands that haveDealt […]Read more "The hands that mould us"
Seems to be the hardest thing for us to be. We would rather eat pig’s slop On our own “adventure” Than sit and dine In our Father’s house. So hellbent on our own way So sure that He doesn’t have Our best interests at heart, That we would go out of our way To fend […]Read more "Being our Father’s children"
It’s crazy how those early years Carry so much. They are “little humans” Like us, but little. Most of them have no bills to pay Or mouths to feed Or points to prove. Little humans don’t respect our boundaries, Nor care for our politics And can disarm even the most guarded amongst us. They are […]Read more "Little humans"