The Cenotaph

There are places in me
where I go to mourn
what is not there.

An empty stone,
a name without a body,
a date without a doorway.

The precious thing is buried elsewhere—
in a house that no longer stands,
in a field grown over strange weeds,
in a voice I cannot quite recover,
in the face of someone
before disappointment taught them
how to look away.

I bring flowers
to the wrong place.

Still, I come.

Because memory does not always know
where the dead are buried.
Sometimes, it only knows
where to kneel.

And perhaps that is what I am:
a cenotaph of my former selves,
a monument raised far from the grave,
a body still walking
with epitaphs hidden under the skin.

Here lies the boy who believed.
Here lies the song unsung.

Here lies the photo with the blurred face.
Here lies the joy that went ahead of me
and never came back.

But the mausoleum is empty.

That is the terror.
That is the mercy.

For what is not here
may not be wholly lost.
What is buried far away
may still be sending roots beneath the earth,
their ghostly fingers stretching toward me.

The Cenotaph Triad

The Cenotaph

The Roots Beneath the Stone

The First Green Thorn

Maundy Thursday Shadow Sketches

As part of a Service of Shadows for Maundy Thursday April 2, 2026, these sketches were drawn as each “shadow” of Christ’s final hours were read. I had a general idea before hand but for the most part each came together more or less spontaneously during the reading. I used a large flip chart in front of the congregation. As each candle was blown out, I flipped to a new page and once the reading began, started a new sketch. We then created a kind of gallery of the finished shadow sketches in the church.

View all of the “shadow sketches” at https://www.deviantart.com/peacegroover/gallery/100765113/service-of-shadows-maundy-thursday-2026

Captured a moment of stillness with watercolor, a quiet scene reflecting tranquility and architectural charm at "Fábrica da Pólvora de Barcarena". Painting this piece felt like a meditation, focusing on each brushstroke and watching the water and pigment flow into place. Sometimes it’s the simple scenes that bring the most calm.

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