When tennis-ball sized hail fell in Cheyenne a few weeks ago, it shattered our glass table into a thousand smithereens….

And when the words fell and the friends turned on their heels, and the silence prevailed, I felt something else shatter as well.

I’ve scarcely thought about the pile of glass in my front yard…but there are other broken things that I constantly grate and tear, that worked their way into my dreams.

And today I wanted, as close as I ever have in my life, revenge. For them to harvest a small sampling of the pain they’d forced me to reap.

But the only one gathering anything was me, when mom called me out front to help pick up all the glass.

I crouched and peered at the dirt and debris around me on that lawn. Some of the pieces were large, piled together, easy to find. Others were such tiny things, nestled at the base of the blades of grass.

And my biggest clue to finding each piece was the way they caught the light, like so many little gems, so many little stars.

I think we’ve all heard the analogy about how God can use even the broken things in our lives…how He can take those broken pieces and make something beautiful. And I know He can…

But what about when He DOESN’T? What about the times when all that’s given us is the brokenness?

A thousand tiny sharp shards to find, a thousand hours of wondering and searching down on your knees…

And I realized that the hunt for the pieces is not to put away the pain, to make sense of the chaos, to stop feeling the loss….

but to realize that even brokenness still glistens with The Light.


~The Lost Song~

A song, a chant, a warring-cry, my brother wrote a battle hymn.
And though louder than thunder was, silenced at once the awful din.
Then in that space my forlorn heart took wings and flew to days and times
When our souls were not enemies, and you, comrade, were brother mine.

A hill, a flight, a spray of snow—we rode upon a charger brave
In Winter laid both fears and foes and tears and strife into the grave.
And in that age we laughed alike, twas but our life’s bright summertime,
When our souls were not enemies, and you, comrade, were brother mine.

A roast, a bowl, a table’s cheer, was how, that eve, the nightmare came.
And though subtler than silk it was, unleashed were words that caused us pain.
And pain didst lead to bleeding wounds, and wounds didst fester days and times
When our souls were not enemies, and you, comrade, were brother mine.

A sword, a spear, now fugitives, we flee and war on separate ways.
More scouring than the dessert sands, more cru’l than blood that gilds our days
Was there not a covenant? Nay, now lays dead, as is the life
When our souls were not enemies, and you, comrade, were brother mine.

A song, a chant a warring-cry, my brother wrote a battle hymn,
And scarce my soul can hear it now, amid hell shrieking death and din.
Once were our souls not enemies, once were you, comrade, brother mine?
Nay—my soul heeds not such things, shall to lone darkness ever bind.

~Winter Cry~

~Winter Cry~.

Wander, pace this path again

Feet still, I watch the frost flakes fly

These first frost flakes that herald more–

An angry, biting army more.


Hoary, this cold mob will blind

And I will continue to wend

The journey back to homeland shore–

The fair forsaken homeland shore.


Stumble, forests trap and tear

Tis not the wounds that slow my task

But legs so swift in coward’s flight–

So weak to save me from the night.


Breathe, and know that home is nigh

Yet know, my guilt the door hath barred.

All treasures scorned in my disdain–

Shall not be mine to hold again.


Blue, the blizzard leads me on.

Dark red, the sky a canopy.

And snow my mark on earth erase–

My defiled steps shall all erase.

I sought to friend red Autumn’s child

Princess of flames she scattered wild

Her canvas, regal mountain sides

Glint of her smile for souls beguiled.


Would then I’d known my outstretched hands

Had blindly grasped at burning brands.

Her ochre eyes, not mine to keep,

Shed falling tears to lull to sleep.


I sought to friend cold Winter’s Dear

She danced pure silver, ev’ry year.

Who moonlight clad, imbued white fear–

My fervent arms embraced her near.


Would then I’d known twas’ whirlwinds clasped–

That no love keeps such dancers trapped.

Her diamond lips, not mine to keep,

Sang frozen winds to lull to sleep.


Would I had known the black of night

That ne’er in hope sparks with the light.

And would that hearts not mine to keep

Had swiftly sent me to such sleep.


So inky script did fade
These words to ashes gray
And what once shone in cavalcade
Has dried and blown away.

Shields then formed a wall
But gloria victoria
Now blazes hot in fiery fall–
Has dried and blown away.

Demons stay to dance
Whirl, fingers latched, close to our hand
I know this plague so shook our stance–
It’s dried and blown away.

The wind will not return again
That which we sacrifice and lend
Too quickly precious things of men
Have dried and blown away.

Keep close the blood within your heart
And tear-filled eyes that shine like stars
Guard this pain lest love depart–
And die to blow away.


I wrote no songs to help your steps
Along the red and winding path
That stretched away o’er purple hills
O’er raging waters’ foamy wrath
For leave you must and gone we be
Each to safe-guard his birthright load
And on your way with but a glance
Upon the red and winding road
No final words to see you off
No cloak to shelter from the breeze
My hands, too clumsy for a loom
To birth a shield twixt night and thee
No tears! I wish thee hale and whole
With smiles to ornament this goad
That urges thee keep to the quest
Upon the red and winding road
Summer’s gold! An emerald field
Once knew the mettle of our souls
And spar we did beneath the trees
By sapphire rivers’ ceaseless roll
Now folly’s laid amid the moss
The years have harshly taken toll
For scarcely do the four winds blow
Nonage to the red and winding road
No promise, Friend, to meet again
No slowing in your steady stride
Our blades will bear us company
Both singing sweet whilst swinging wide
Let sweat and blood bind sacred vows
Dark rending to the storm-clouds bode
May heaven keep all burning hearts
Fast to the red and winding road



Tread upon the silken wave
That purple spinning foaming flood
Where sailors gaze upon the grave
And where the waters mix with blood
The shining creatures dart and spin
A shroud of mystery for the deep
And yet to Thee the shrieking din
Is but a song to lull to sleep

Look upon the foaming crest
That wrenches souls in panicked fear
As lightning shatters Heaven’s breast
And Hell’s dark arms embrace them near.
Their craft shall soon to depths be sent
And then in ag’ny, so shall they
Yet Thou whose word the waters bent
Canst sovereign rend the storm to save

Call with fire upon the night
Which wild and brutal writhes her rage
Then sing soft-sweetly to the wind
And battle with his shrieking wage
The heaving swells of boiling black
Shall be as glass beneath Thy feet
And then those hands which tear the wrack
Relapse unto eternal sleep

Take hold upon the trembling tears
And let Thy voice the heaven shake
So she shall shed her sodden years
Altars of awestruck terror make
Whet the sword! Draw out the bow
Drown our souls with solemn peace
Thy grace upon the waves rain blow
Gilt arcs of glory never cease