top of page

Anatomy of Grace



If these bones could speak

Would they ask

Tell me who you are, 

I will tell you about me


Would they name their children

One by one, tell stories

They used to tell their grandchildren at bedtime


would they sing songs 

in the morning

Their voices echoing to high ceilings

Until gathering into a chorus


Would they map out where they’ve been

Where they hoped they could have gone


I carry in this wooden box

A final act of generosity 

The power of giving

What words cannot say

bottom of page