Pristine Floor

October 5, 2022September 30, 2022 marygracewritingLeave a comment

I turned it over in my hand
This broken piece
Of self
Traced the cracks
Noted the gaps
Counted the missing particles
Now marking
A pristine floor

A broom passed by
Grabbing flecks that soiled
This hallowed place.

Its bristles shush
My shameful grief
Watching
In silence

I should have protested
asked for time
Told my story
Before
This piece of self
Crumbled
And I was left to mourn.

Alone
Or so perceived

Untill
Generous Silence
Gave them back to me
Cupped
In recognition
Bound tightly
With the string of memories
As I prayed

He gave no rebuke
As bits poured into my hands
Losing fragments
Between hesitant fingers
He helped me count the loss
That again littered marble paths
Highlighted against its wealth
As human filth

He waited
Cupping tears that spilled
Adding his own to the soiled floor
Besmirched in regrets as thick as aged blood

Patient
He shushed the onlookers
Ready to jeer the fallen

Then I was ready
He pulled each speck to himself
Dirtying his own hands to lift my loss
Into his apron furled
It was him who shook my remnant free
Of any last dust
It was my King who carried my shame
Out the door
And when returned
Knowing it no more

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Together

September 7, 2022August 31, 2022 marygracewritingLeave a comment

I ask for his hand
He holds on tight
A curve is coming
It might mean a fight

But we stand together
Hand in hand, we’re one
We won’t be separated
We can’t be undone

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

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Butternut Squash Soup

June 15, 2022June 13, 2022 marygracewriting3 Comments

Thankful for tears
as I chop onions.
Release,
I didn’t know I needed.

Raw bitterness
dumped
atop sweet
orange flesh.

Juice
flows past my firmest grip.
Gentleness,
mixed with curry spice.

Squash and pear.
present with sadness.
Stewed together
then blended smooth.

A prosses,
as the bubbles rise.
God met me here.

The soup is done.

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He Names Me

May 18, 2022May 22, 2022 marygracewritingLeave a comment

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

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Quip Corner with Ada

April 19, 2022 marygracewriting3 Comments

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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Get to Know Me

March 30, 2022March 22, 2022 marygracewriting5 Comments

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.”

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Message in a Bottle

March 23, 2022March 23, 2022 marygracewriting3 Comments

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.

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What an Artist Gives

March 2, 2022May 3, 2022 marygracewriting8 Comments

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.

Not Alone

December 22, 2021December 17, 2021 marygracewritingLeave a comment

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.

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Reviews for The Branch that I Am

December 16, 2021February 4, 2023 marygracewriting1 Comment

Have you read ‘The Branch that I Am’? Please leave us a review on Goodreads, Amazon, or in the comments section of this post. All reviews are welcome and appreciated, whether one star or five. All we ask is that you are kind in your word choice. THANK YOU!