Worn Pages

painted a picture with works in my notebook.

so I painted a picture with words in my notebook.

On the train.

The pages are wrinkled by time and heavy use,
creased and tissue-paper thin,
worn edges, markings, post-its, bookmarks,
and slips of colored paper, red, green blue, orange, pink,
tucked in, marking places.

The cover, grey-beige. The edges of the cover
chewed by time, and love, and need for comfort.
Slowly wearing away.
Gently resting in tender hands.

Forehead creased in contemplation and with intent.
Reading glasses, eyes scanning, nourished by the word.

Momentary solace, comfort, reassurance…guidance?
Love and connection?
Access to the divine?
Solitude and peace?



I was sitting on the Metro train in D.C. last week and saw a woman take out her bible and start to read in the busy subway car. She was not shy about reading it in public, and she was certainly not doing it for show.What first caught my eye was that the book was so well-read, well-used, and cherished.  It was obvious to me that her bible was very important to her, and that her relationship with the divine was also very important. It seemed to me that she was seeking solace, peace, and comfort, perhaps, in reading her bible.  There was something about this image that that struck me, so I studied her, painted a picture with words in my notebook, and burned the image into my mind.


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