Where shall I look for reassurance of your love?
Every cloud in the sky is of your design;
the moon and stars flew hither on your breath,
the sun a molecule of fire from your throne –
yet none of them bear a fingerprint.
Not one of them is marked by bumps and grooves
and curls of tender caress.
The sun and the angels both are pure light;
the heavenly beings and bodies all glow,
but none of them are of dust and of air,
none of them are of earthy, gritty stuff –
of breath, blood and sweat – You care
for us, the dusty, weather-worn and small,
not glorious, but placed in rank near all
the wonders, angels, gods of life and light;
You’ve crowned us with your glory in your sight.


I will not promise you an easy life,
I will not shield you from all pain,
but woe to those who delight
in your suffering.
Their gleaming joy I will swiftly trample;
with a mighty roar I will storm their boasts.
My face is ever turned toward you –
tear for tear, I match your weeping.
I will be angry, fiercely angry
at the joy of your oppressors,
for how dare they pierce your heart
and laugh with glee!
Though I have yet allowed your trials
it is crucifixion to me;
you are my loved one, loved so dearly,
and I promise: you will be free.

The Inspiration:
Psalm 7:6-8 – “Arise, O Lord, in your anger; rise up against the rage of my enemies. Awake, my God; decree justice. Let the assembled peoples gather around you. Rule over them from on high; let the Lord judge the peoples. Judge me, O Lord, according to my righteousness, according to my integrity, O Most High.”
Psalm 8:3-5 – “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place; what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor.”

Written Oct. 2014, Emma Dumitra.
Photo credit: Nicole Rook. 




With weary precision this traveller paints
the lines from the past to the present.
What was once so fresh and strong in mind
is now made dull and unpleasant.

The strength required to keep a pure heart
has brought greater men to their knees.
This traveller breaks; from the dangerous weight
of self-sufficiency is not freed.

Inevitably, the time to surrender
will bring a new vigor sometime,
for the standard is strong yet, the flag flies yet true;
until then, let but hope be his crime.

Written December 2012, Emma Dumitra
Image from http://www.robodesign.ro. 

“Potholes and Paper Cuts”


The world I held today
was like a snow globe in my hands,
confined by naught
but frigid glass
and my imagination.

I saw between red cheeks
a window to the world as it is:
the goodness my fantasies neglect,
the good bad that is really here
and the bad good we pretend.

Maybe it’s okay
that the world is as it is
with its potholes and paper cuts.
Maybe the lines on our fingers
become a maze with an end,
when your fingers cling to mine
and mine to yours.

Written March 2012, Emma Dumitra.
Image from urbanghostsmedia.com. A pothole garden by Steve Wheen.