Sharing notable reflection and perspective on the scriptures.
Welcome to my face. The eyes are Netherlander, a gift of my Mother’s motherland. The nose, a high bridge with a buckle, carved on the cliff of my ascent. The eyes set deep, hazel, penetrating eyes bent by process—here the glacial silt of rivers, here amber grain, here fleck of cloud, here and there of horse, of coal, of ghost.