Two Works in Progress

An excerpt from my latest short story (still just a draft):

He struck the match and the flame lit up his face. Pained eyes, tired brow.
“Ready?” he whispered.
I shook my head no. “I just want this to be over. I don’t want to be sad anymore,” I whispered back. My voice cracked on the last word.
He grabbed my arm. “Tessa,” he said, his voice low and worn out. “The hurting won’t stop with this. You know that, right?”
A felt a tear crawl out from my eyelid. I wiped it away. “Let’s just get this over with.” I said.
He threw the match on the leaves and papers and twigs and the flames grew into a blaze. The smoke kicked up ashes; the sparks popped and hissed at us.
We watched it burn. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

And here’s the first half of a poem I’m writing that explores the different trees in the biblical stories:

Here am I sitting
under a fig tree
when you come along and
say Follow Me

My old life is dead
my soul is set free
I’ve been Nathanael
a proud pharisee

I climb to see you
from the sycamore tree
when you come along and
then dine with me

My old life is dead
my soul is set free
I’ve been Zaccheus
a proud pharisee

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