I have measured time in distance—
from my couch to the dim path of the woods,
from my chair at the table to my father’s recliner,
from the sigh in my ear from 3000 miles away
as my son struggles with Yes and No
to my own slow, sad tear.
Point A to B might be as much memory
as inches or kilometers.
As much a song, a held hand,
as the rotation of wheels over pavement.
I want to stand rooted for a while,
ankle deep where Lake Huron waves
and the grey-green depths collide in foam
and shine the rocks beneath the winter sun.
Everything we know about God and
Everything we do not know
held in that perfect tension
Find the entire poetry collection This Nurturing Awe: Poems Inspired by the 99 Beautiful Names of God at