One Friday Evening at Stony Point Store

She spreads her legs
Hugs that guitar
Snuggles up to
Kiss the mic
Sings her song

Jeans and a jean jacket
“Just an old hippie”
She says
But her voice still
Sweet and strong



As the weather cools
Smoky clouds billow above
As trees flare brightly.

With flame leaves
Orange, red, yellow, gold
Shaking in the wind
Sparks flying to the ground
Autumn trees warm hearts.

Adaptation of Wisdom 3: 1-9

The souls of the abused, the outcast, the denied are in the hand of God,
and no more abuse shall touch them.
They seemed, in the view of the arrogant, to be worthless;
and their abuse was thought an insignificant thing
and their leaving the church, their utter destruction.
But they are in peace.
For if by priests, men all, they were abused,
yet is their hope full of immortality;
though greatly abused, they shall be greatly blessed,
because God, Lady Wisdom, loves them
and finds them worthy of Herself.
As gold in the furnace, they suffered and She knew of it,
and as sacrificial offerings She took them to herself.
Now and in eternity they shall shine,
and shall dart about as sparks
burning through the stubble of deceitful clericalism;
they shall judge priests and rule over the hierarchy,
and Lady Wisdom shall be their God forever.
Those who trust in Her shall understand truth,
and the faithful shall abide with Her in love:
because grace and mercy are with Her holy ones,
and Her care is with the abused, the outcasts, the denied.

Adaptation of the Beatitudes

Blessed are those the church treats poorly,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are the abused who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are those who spurn clericalism,
for they will inherit the faith.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be satisfied.
Blessed are those who refused to protect abusers,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart,
who neither abused nor turned a blind eye to abuse,
for they will see God.
Blessed are those who work and pray
for healing and peace for the abused and outcast,
for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are they who are excluded and persecuted
because of their sexual orientation,
because they are women,
because they accused their abusers,
because they speak out to restore righteousness,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are we when they insult us, persecute us, ignore us,
close their ears to our cries for justice,
and utter every kind of evil against us falsely
because we claim our rightful place with Jesus.
Let us persevere and support each other,
Though we see no reward in our lifetime.
Let us rejoice and be glad,
for our reward will be great in heaven.

Adaptation of Jeremiah 31:7-9

Thus says Lady Wisdom:
Shout with joy for Sarah and Hagar,
For Keturah
For Leah, Rachel
For women valued and devalued,
For women cherished and abandoned
Exult with the women of the nations;
Proclaim your praise, your hope and say:
Lady Wisdom will deliver her daughters,
The remnant of Israel.
Behold, I will bring them back
From the land of the desert and the cold,
I will gather them from the ends of the world,
With the blind and the lame in their midst,
The mothers and those with child,
The young women and the old,
Women by birth and women by choice –
They shall return as an immense throng.
They departed in tears,
But I will console them and guide them;
I will lead them to brooks of water,
On a level road, so that none shall stumble.
For I am a mother to Eve,
Keturah the forgotten is my first-born.


They seem so close
Easy to grab
I reach down
Wrist, elbow slipping
Into the cool water
Almost to my shoulder
I reach deep
For the golden fish
Quicksilver cold
Mercurial fragments
Of my mind pool
The small fall
Of tears
Ripples the surface
But those slivers
Those erratic beautiful golden
Stay in the quiet depths
Just out of reach


Once I bent double
Not with age
My nose snuggled into
My shins
My hands waved to my toes
As they slipped past
To pat the floor
When I ached
It was because I
Had pretzeled myself
Again and again
Or rode my bike through mountains
Or danced until I was breathless
This same me
But not
How often do our cells turn over?
I feel bound now
Trussed by age
The grab in my left hip
The catch in my groin
The cramp in my leg
The tiredness in my mind
Remind me
Of what I would rather forget