This path, this road that is one perfect straight line even if it goes around the world through heat and fog and rain and snow and it's my life I kee….

My son called to me that God was inside his red fire engine. He wanted to show me. I did move as fast as I could, spilling like water through the kit….

The longing to be holy makes us weep, and we trust tears since they are made of water and come from our body, a double blessing..

My children's faces are private candles i sometimes worship at..

In poetry you can leave out everything but the truth..