How many nights have I lied awake in the little hours of the morning? I am listening to the Maker singing and his angels with Him. The night embraces with majesty. An unseen light is reflected in my eyes, wide open. Magic is whispered. A great song is unfolding and I am restless with the enchanting vastness of it all. My heart is throbbing. It is good, it is good, it is good. This life is sacred. Miracles are the ordinary. There are words that linger in my ear even now.




My heart is full of silvery stars

And the people who watched them with me

Of bright kitengi patterns, and smiles beneath blankets

Of closed eyes

And held hands

Of tambourines and drums


Of golden light that filled cupped hands

And gentle kisses from the moon

Of flour sand and ocean breezes,

Unwashed apples and bare feet


Of sunrises from shukas

And chili and chai

Of coffee fields and bus rides home

Of yellow lilies waving from the driveway,

And pink wildflowers dancing in the light

Of the red earth and the blue sky

Of picking guitar strings

And pretty harmonies


Of messy hair and beating heart

Of rooftop reading and water tower climbing

Of mountains and forests

And castles of tents

Of swinging through portals, toes kissing treetops

Of playing in construction, and bike ride missions


Of wide-eyed wondering

And teachers who wove poetry into my step

Who spoke with conviction in every word,

Unlocked magic doors

And taught me to see


Of walking the road

And royal carpets of jacaranda tree purple

Of palaces made beneath canopies of bowing branches

Of school children uniforms

And the friendship of strangers


Of adventures

And the small silver bells of laughter that sparkles in their eyes

Of rain that dumped from the heavens,

Blessing the earth and the soul


Of talking till sleeping

Of learning, of growing



There is this deep turning within me,

Of Life, of Life, of Life



Why am I always on the verge of tears?

Have I done something wrong?

Am I longing for home?

Has loneliness settled in me as stones in the sea?

Or am I seeking to be needed?  To be useful?  To be praised?

Was it not You who sent me here?

Did I misunderstand?

Then why such lamenting within me?

And why do you remain silent?


The fiery sands pierce the cracked heel

And the eyes grow weary of weeping

Show me you have not forsaken me!


Brace yourself as a woman.

Now I will question you, and you shall answer me


Can you make the rain fall on the earth?

Can you make it swirl about you in that great wind that tears the hair and strengthens the heart?

Child, can you sing life or can you paint light?


Many have come this way before you

Did not I?  To the desert where the bread corn is bruised?

But no one crushes it forever

And when I have tested you

You shall come forth as gold.

I will go down with you into Egypt

And I will also surely bring you up again


You shall dance from the desert

With flowers in your hair

Silver refined adorning your feet

Fair colors and spices

And Singing,







How does one speak

The achings of the heart?

How does one speak

The breathings of the soul?

Where are the words

For this sacred miracle of life?



Burned hands and faces

Bruised cheeks

And tears


And files…


Child Laborer


Raped by two boys















What eternity is held in your eyes!

What a miracle to encounter the echo of Him in you.



Little hands beat little drum

And all the children dance

He stops, we freeze

We fall to laughter and he has won



A Song

Lala salama, mtoto wangu

Lala salama

Mungu yuko hapa

And you are safe

Beneath her tent of stars

And you are cradled

In his arms

Lala salama, mtoto wangu

Lala salama

Mungu yuko hapa