Sunday Poem: “Graces from My Life”

Mornings late abed, melancholy rain,
  feathered-hope graffiti, love’s youthful churn,
Boston flanerie, torque of longing’s strain,
  son in darkness, autumn, a sermon’s turn;
lungs’ gulp, bereaved embrace, vanilla pine,
  brokenness reknit, hands-uplifted prayer,
midnight thoughts, intimations of design,
  a chancel choir, friends’ laughs, the weight of care;
fire-purpled evening, remade love, a verse,
  motets’ weave and rise, raveled-open soul,
released Anfechtung, church-tears, mem’ry’s nurse,
  morning quiet, mountains, the hoped-for whole;
pilgrim’s aching, first Herbert poem’s heart’s-ease,
stubborn bones, a kindly thought, sacred peace.


  1. Thank you for this gracious verse, Jason. A soul-calming reflection for a soul-troubling time.

  2. Awesome, Jason. Thanks for sharing.

  3. Reminds me a little of Hopkins.

  4. He’s in there, but the more immediate debt is to Herbert.

  5. I read this yesterday as I walked the halls of our church building with a falling-asleep 4 month old strapped to me. Beautiful. And balm to my soul on a weekend where extra lots of my mental and emotional energy were spent worrying about the future of America and stuff. Thank you.

  6. Thanks, Aly!

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