The weather changes
by the hour.
The wind changes
by the minute.
But my heart is Rock—
pierced, split, and cracked
only by the sprouting Seed
planted by your Hand.
Like this: Like Loading...
Yesterday’s Mail
Select Month
September 2022 (13)
January 2022 (2)
December 2021 (1)
September 2021 (3)
August 2021 (4)
July 2021 (4)
June 2021 (9)
May 2021 (2)
March 2021 (3)
December 2020 (2)
November 2020 (1)
August 2020 (1)
July 2020 (1)
June 2020 (6)
March 2020 (1)
January 2020 (2)
December 2019 (1)
November 2019 (3)
September 2019 (1)
August 2019 (1)
July 2019 (4)
March 2019 (2)
February 2019 (4)
December 2018 (2)
November 2018 (2)
October 2018 (3)
September 2018 (1)
August 2018 (9)
July 2018 (1)
June 2018 (5)
May 2018 (1)
April 2018 (3)
March 2018 (3)
February 2018 (6)
January 2018 (1)
December 2017 (3)
October 2017 (17)
September 2017 (1)
August 2017 (2)
July 2017 (1)
June 2017 (1)
May 2017 (1)
April 2017 (5)
March 2017 (1)
February 2017 (1)
January 2017 (3)
December 2016 (2)
November 2016 (4)
October 2016 (2)
September 2016 (3)
August 2016 (3)
July 2016 (10)
June 2016 (3)
May 2016 (2)
April 2016 (9)
March 2016 (11)
February 2016 (3)
January 2016 (6)
December 2015 (5)
November 2015 (4)
October 2015 (5)
September 2015 (6)
August 2015 (4)
July 2015 (13)
June 2015 (8)
May 2015 (17)
April 2015 (8)
March 2015 (16)
February 2015 (14)
January 2015 (16)
December 2014 (23)
November 2014 (28)
October 2014 (39)
terimuso: Poetry by Tammy Iralu 