March 2, 2017 / Creative Writing
Erin Steinke looks for “a hieroglyph in dust and root” while hunting the storm.
November 26, 2012
Only the tops of trees, the blue sky.
Sometimes a bird passing by. No sound
from outside; the window won’t open.
You ask me where I am. What I see.
Sometimes all I see are the words behind
my eyes. Sometimes, a book on the desk:
Life of the Beloved. The Long Home. Or,
a single sheet with that poem about
falling in love. And there’s Jesus above
on the cross, looking sad. We are all sad,
aren’t we? Sometimes the white clouds
billowing up. The flock of birds that
sing so loud I let them in.
Marci Rae Johnson
Marci Rae Johnson holds an MFA in poetry writing from Spalding University and an MA in theological studies from Wheaton College. She currently teaches at Valparaiso University, where she serves as poetry editor for the Cresset and on the English department reading series committee (Wordfest). She is also the poetry editor for WordFarm press. Her poems appear or are forthcoming in Valparaiso Review, Relief, Louisville Review, Christian Century, and 32 Poems, among others. Her first collection of poetry won the Powder Horn Prize and will be published by Sage Hill Press later this year.