the way the light
carves into a broken heart
and makes an empty tomb
© 2025 jennifer wagner
poetic bloomings: matters of the heart
day 20
photo: antelope canyon © jennifer wagner
the way the light
carves into a broken heart
and makes an empty tomb
© 2025 jennifer wagner
poetic bloomings: matters of the heart
day 20
photo: antelope canyon © jennifer wagner
It’s fantastic
how You meet me here
in my undoing—spit-shined
as if You don’t see it all.
Those smudges
have just made it worse—
I can see that now.
But, in my belly
there’s half a Santa Cruz peanut butter
and Southwest honey sandwich,
and half a glass of sun tea
fresh-bled in the Arizona sun.
Why “Arizona’s?” It’s all of ours, really.
But it feels like it’s mine today.
Mr. Siamese watches with me
the half a dozen
Gambel’s quails marching around
pecking the yard
filling their already plump physiques—
turbans bouncing.
I smile and laugh, and it feels good,
since I’ve already cried three times today,
after a dry spell.
My son’s big warm hand,
the one I used to fit into mine,
rests for a moment on my shoulder
and I forget
all the other things
resting on me.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
Poem-a-Day 16: write a “something fantastic” poem
“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28
“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7
If not for
the twig-nest
of our twined fingers,
and the threefold cord
we’ve kept
to cup
in prayer
long midnights—
as hope has crashed
and risen—
and the bright blue shells
we’ve been given
last to hatch
unbroken by anything
but song—
if not but for
the soft-feathered provision
of Your constant love.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
Poetic Bloomings: write an “If not for (blank)” poem
Day 14
American Robins lay bright blue eggs, three to five per clutch, with four being the most common.
This “American Robin” has had four in her “clutch.” We’ve raised three to adulthood, with our fourth nearly there. We’ve been through much—depression, addictions, overdose, losing loved ones to suicide, the long-term effects of PTSD/I, etc. This list is not exhaustive. It’s hard to be a parent, it’s hard to be a child—it’s hard to be a person—life can be filled with so much pain. But there is so much beauty, too. In part, that’s why I’m using birds in my poetry so much this month. And for me, I could not have sustained any of it without the Master Brood-keeper.
“He will cover you with his pinions (feathers), and under his wings you will find refuge;” Psalm 91:4a