He Names Me

Who am I?
The one that you see?
What she thinks of me?
All they note?
Or the thing he missed?

Who?

Guilty
That I forgot
Lost in the mess
Of others’ thoughts
Spewed at my feet

Why?

Untranslatable
From one mind to another
Labeled with others
Experiences
Self perceptions that tell lies

Where?

Is the truth of me
In this ever shifting nexus
Is it written down
In His book of days?
Was I

Planted

A vine that climes
Grabbing hold of His
Provisions
Both free and confined
To grow along the trellis of

His cross

When I reach the top
Will I know?
Intertwined and grounded
By Him, with Him,
I am for Him

Upheld

Blooming in my seasons
Existing, a separate being
Singleness, within the
Universe’s Whomb
Bearing fruits as He names me

Loved

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Quip Corner with Ada

I recently enjoyed having a conversation with Ada from Quip Corner, about my book ‘The Branch That I Am.’

I enjoyed our conversation and I hope you do as well!

Ada is the author of the 101 QUIPS AND QUOTES BOOK COLLECTION. for the last 2 years she has used her YouTube channel Quips Corner to promote other authors in celebration of World Book and Copy Write day. I know she would love to have you tune in for the rest of the month. Don’t forget to go back and watch the interviews from earlier in April.

Thank you Ada, for blessing me with this interview!


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Pots of Hope

Have you heard the plastic pull as knife slides across bag of black earth?
Have you felt the beginnings of warmth as matter clings to fingerprints and stains nails dark?
The dirt is chill. Yet the warmth flows, packed in pots of hope.
Have you listened to the rustle of paper release seeds from captivity?
Smallness containing miraculous promise.
Snow may linger, but add a pane of glass to a sun of spring and greenhouses blossom in
earliest spring.
It makes my heart ring.
Simple actions reminding, surrounded by soil’s grounding scent.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Pots of Hope‘ was originally published by Dwelling Literary in the GREENHOUSE Issue. Page 22.


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Get to Know Me

I don’t know God
like He knows me.
I glimpse His mercy
in every tree
that oozes air
so I can breathe,
and drops its fruits
that I might feed.

I don’t know God
Like he knows me.
So much of him
I can not see.
But whispers of
His harmony
linger in
the slightest breeze.

Weather wind
or breath set free,
this circle
Is a part of we.
Never from it
Can we flee,
wrapped in infinite
artistry.

I don’t know God
Like He knows me.
But I’m learning
to just be.
In the being
He sets us free
to hear His heart-
beat out the plea
to all of His humanity,

“Come,
get to know me.”

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Message in a Bottle

Wandering
across the expanse.
A dance In speckled darkness.

Glass vessel
reflected glimmers.
Slivers of light refracted through
Translucency,

casting a luminous cloud.
Lighting particles once hidden,
transformed into ethereal wings.

Enabling,
a bottled prayer
to heaven cling.
Whispers,
winging higher than my dreams.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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What an Artist Gives

She started with the whitest sheet,
Epitome of incomplete.

So her words began to drip,
Complexion with it also slipped.

Human intensity,
Splashed the page in empathy.

Jumbled pinks with browns to shade.
Blues of descending hues arrayed.

It leached all, left her gray,
As hid behind the curtain fay.

Work complete, feeling weak,
Departing, finding empty streets.

She walked alone beneath the sky,
Breathing in as time let fly.

As the sunset kissed her face,
Flush across her cheeks raced.

So God filled his empty vessel,
Leaving heart with sparks to wrestle.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Coming About

It’s a difficult thing
coming about.
Shifting position,
turning around.

Humbling questions,
confusion galore.
But brave souls
can also restore

An off kilter compass,
foot steps astray.
Brave hearts holding
pride at bay.

Utter “I’m sorry,”
cry when they pray.
Know, failure
is more than okay.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Not Alone

The trod of booted
feet.
Never lift a face
to great.
Hands in pockets
deep.
One block left
to defeat.

Alone yet not
alone.
Carrying thoughts like
stone.
Hunching shoulders
prone.
Coming night, the
unknown.

But something is
unseen.
An aura somehow,
clean.
Wholly real, so
serene.
Yet hidden by a
misty screen.

It shimmers on the
edge.
Surrounding like a
hedge.
Embodiment of a
pledge.
Leading away from the
ledge.

A gentle hand at
night.
When it’s fight or
flight.
Reminding of the
right,
To walk through lonely
night.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Calm Snow

A blanket of cold.
Gentle, as it floats from grey
Enclosed sky. Now sleep.

God given layers
cover natures dieing throws.
Dignity at end.

Disintegrating,
a slow giving up of self
back into the web.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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