Eden N. Rowland

On the Sunday of the first week of my senior year, I sat in church with my family, taking notes as I listened to my pastor preach on Hebrews 10. He spoke about

My eternal calling is an artist, And my life’s work goes mostly unnoticed. Maybe you’ll spot ink on my fingertips From my pen that carries songs from seasons, Scratching words soon

It’s the middle of my last semester of college. I’m working on my capstone project for a show in the auditorium at the center of campus that smells of old wood

Let’s run together, you and I, Through the floral tapestry woven in the valley As pastel nectar drips down the sunlit sky. Leave behind the deadlines and the harsh times, The rumors

I cannot remember when I first loved The budding, blushing rose—the face of you. From the moment we met, my spirit moved Because God knew life is better with two. Do you

On the Sunday of the first week of my senior year, I sat in church with my family, taking notes as I listened to my pastor preach on Hebrews 10. He spoke about

What hell can you wreck upon lone me? My King and Queen have retreated, And I am my own worst enemy. Fiery stakes consume the clergy Who told me forgiveness was dead. What

We bear bundles of joy and suffer As you count our flesh and bone as worthless, Muffling our wailing ’cause it’s a bother. With hearts of sponge we soak up your stress,

Stepping on glass—shards Scattered across—a minefield Underfoot—Times Square— Wasps nest in—your ears As muskets—and cannons boom— Fire alarms—shrieking— Your corse—a statue— Stone cold and solid—and

In the silence of the sanctuary, The bread and juice still linger on my tongue— The blood and body of the Father’s only Son Nailed naked to a tree at Calvary. The

The angels lead me to A crystal river of life Flowing from a golden throne. Stepping into the glassy stream, I meet peace unlike any other, Calling me to surrender and submerge. Tainted

From the sunshine-cloaked whispers of August To the icy throes of January, My heart of glass decided it would trust His deep-sea eyes shrouded in mystery.   Infatuated with a masquerade— For the sage

Across the ballroom,           She patiently waits for him                       To meet her soft gaze— An invitation           For him to draw near to her.                       He offers his hand, And she accepts it           And their fingers

It still haunts me to this day, Those awful words: “Go into the forest if you dare.” The phrase lingered in the meadows And lurked among the wildflowers, A light-hearted joke delivered in

I could not climb the mountain to reach Victory. My own blood had to be shed for a clean slate— But You did it for me. Filling my cup with good deeds, I

When I see eyes of a bright blue hue, Reflecting a precious soul in two spheres, I cannot help but marvel at their beauty And wonder at how they resemble the sea. When