Wednesday, June 15, 2016


I’m not fond
of needles,

or needling
in general,

especially when
I’ve lain
on a bed of them.

So I will stick

to the kind
like pine, and

like space, ever
reaching skyward—

to thread
my life

with the hope
that never fails

to call my name.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Space Needle Image © 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Sunday, June 12, 2016


I once trusted
every standing bridge
I came to,

that it would hold,
carry me over
to the other side.

Now, I doubt.

At each crossing,
a hesitation.

Experience has taught me
wolves dwell among the sheep,
chaff remains midst the wheat.

Rotten planks.  Weak foundations.  Slippery stepping stones.

My eyes have fooled me
more than once
on this account.

But fear won’t have a stranglehold
around the neck of my indecision.

I’ll keep walking
even when I have to close my eyes
to see.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner