When I think to myself
of myself:
"Here, this is the prophet
who was to come
into my world.
By force,
make him king"--
I must withdraw
to a quiet place
by myself
to remember kingdoms
were not meant
to be of this world.
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I write. At times, I talk too much or not enough. I'm in search of the right words, and I'm in search of silence.
Poetry, Homilies, and Flesh
- W. Andrew Gibbens
- Tennessee, United States
- "Often, our theology does not have sufficient poetry...the silence of poetry is a form of surrender to the living God..." -John Chyrssavgis, "The World of the Icon and Creation"
These Folks
(Un)See the Wind
- Pentecost
- Devotion
- Wisdom Playing
- Devotion and Reciprocity
- Simple Prayers
- Sacred Heart
- Perfection
- Happiness
- Please Don't Assume
- Three Travelers
- Cucumbers, Lords, and Forgiveness
- Mercy's Lap
- Let Me Go
- The Coming Waters
- Virginity (?)
- Remember and Remind
- Beautiful Woman
- Paradise Belongs to Children
- Sell
- Eulogy for a Garden Spider
- Nine/Eleven
- Taste the Voice of Weeping
- Thoughts
- Consider the Lilies (Adoration Sermon)
- Our mother, O Father
- A Poem Written on my 24th Birthday
- To Touch Insurrections
- Hebel - Abel
- Towards a Full Nothing
- Church Death - Church Growth
- The Gospel Takes Us, Not Us the Gospel (a homily)
- history, no longer repeating
- The Small Law of Love
- Not He
- Tea on back deck, under the sun
- Invitation, Acceptance, Power, and Humility (a homily)
- Theology
- The Epiphany of Gaza
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