5:37 pm. 1 January, 2015 The house is quiet…the kitchen smells like butter, cinnamon, and toasting walnuts…there is a cool draft coming in the window to counter the heat of the oven…all is well. Thank you for the gifts of flavor and spice and my senses that teach me so much about who you are…
Author: Kimberly M. King
I am a Religious of the Sacred Heart (RSCJ) living in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. I am the director of Barat Spirituality Centre, www.baratspirituality.org, a writer, a juggler, a quick wit, a walker. I enjoy reading all sorts of fiction and non-fiction and regularly write both essays and poetry. Other interests and abilities include Spanish/English written translation and simultaneous interpretation, cooking, and time spent thinking and observing.
Utter Godsense
The desk in my bedroom has a squared-u on top of the back part of it. There is a wide flat top to the u that up until several days ago held most of my books. There was a pile at one end…a line of books…and a pile at the other. Since putting volumes…
Advent III, 2014
Advent III, 2014 My counter-weight, my center down, my metronome, my joy, my song, my strength, my fascination, my hope, my help, my rumination, my wonder, awe, best inclination, grace, cry, laugh, word, moving me out to the neighborhood; Born a baby, born of yes, born to journey, born to bless. Joy to the world,…
Advent II, 2014
ADVENT II, 2014 Where the voice cries, plaintive or piercing, at the bend of becoming and no return, I am watchful for the low words that draw me down center, that humble me, impassion me, steady me, move me, move my light, move my being, into the here and the now of the still…
Advent I, 2014
Advent I, 2014 With bare spread arms and fullness of being I ache for your coming and praise you already in the becoming colors where night awakens the sun with stories and visions and hope. Where day bows to starlight and promises tales when next they meet to dance on the edge of Mystery’s…
The Offering Tree
The Offering Tree I understand your desire to bend in an open offering of self– Transparent in ache and yearning, willing to let go into the becoming colors that hint at the infinite, almost, not quite, stars remaining, new day rising, glorious fullness and subtlety of being that is God, that is God, that is…
To the Letter
23 October, 2014 I have spent some time this morning with the letters of women who intrigue me…Janet Erskine Stuart, Georgia O’Keefe, Willa Cather…And as I read I find myself talking to them as I might if I had the chance to sit across from them in a book-ish ambiance, or upon a hillside…
Job and the Angels
It is the feast of the Guardian Angels today… And I was thinking about that while I sat in the Public Gardens this morning. I have a hard time with conventional representations of angels…wings, saccharine, pink and cherubic…. But, LIGHT…yes. Warmth. Depth. Presence. Balm, Strength, Steadiness, Accompaniament. Even Guardian, protector… And as I closed my…
Put a Little Love in Your Heart
The Gift of Love If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do…
Snapshots in Word
I have long thought of writing as another way of taking a picture…light and shadow portrayed via word choice…texture reflected in the syllables rubbing together…the invitation to enter offered in both the specificity and the expansiveness… I recently read a stunning example of this–the first section of Dylan Thomas’ radio play, Under Milk Wood–and then…
Consider the Lilies 