October 6, 2022 Dear Reader, My name is Morgan E. Underwood. I am a theology nerd, lover of stories, writer, and mother to one black cat. Have you ever…
June 20, 2024 The Bones Your hand. Then no hand. Dropped. In the wilderness. Walk the valley. Not the ridge. What about the drought? No water. Not in the…
March 30, 2024 Extravagant Sacrifice, Extravagant Worship I came to a standstill last spring as I walked along the sidewalk. Floral perfume filled my nostrils, and I smiled. I knew the…
March 14, 2024 Grandmother Goose This is a poem to my grandmother Who I named Goose Whose tongue-biting smile Lit her grey eyes with ease And creased her cheeks,…
February 15, 2024 This Necklace This necklace, I thought it’d always belong to you. Memories lacking time stamps show that heart hanging from your neck. Hard and cool, diamond…
February 1, 2024 A Liturgy for Writing What have I to offer you? What have I that I might momentarily make visible the invisible? That this broken world might glimpse home?…
January 11, 2024 Liturgies Liturgies. Words. Chosen words. Arranged. Prayed. Prayed over and over Until our very beings like trees, Roots deep, Soak up those words. Absorb those…
December 28, 2023 Quest or Conquest: Distinguishing Longing & Obsession What do you imagine when you envision a quest? Do you picture nine companions setting out on a mission to save Middle Earth? Or…
November 1, 2023 October October 28th Tonight, I curl up on my friend’s couch. The fire crackles and threatens to spew bits of burnt wood beyond the grate….
October 19, 2023 Dusk Golden Hour casts her spell. Shadows stretch. The woods breathe deep. Branches creak. Lull honey-veined leaves To sleep. Light blushes Depression-glass pink. Enchants. The…
August 4, 2023 Only Paper Flowers My fingers craft blossoms. Layered crepe merges color—Thin, transparent, crinkled—Craving to breath.My fingers, craving to create flowers.Weightless. Real.Worthy of ash and petrified pearl.I crease, crimp,…
