Amanda Ryan

Amanda Ryan earned an M.A. from New Saint Andrews College and bachelor’s degrees from U.C. Davis. She is a freelance writer, and teaches high school for Logos Online School. She lives in Idaho with her husband and baby girl.


I saw the upright, the one with wolfish eyes
hungering behind a window.

“Let the Lord overtake,” she said,
“him who walks securely in pretense.

For my eyes have seen the secret moments,
the hidden glances, pauses; the tics of his eyebrows.

Look—I have collected the broken lines of his speech.
I have heard his quiet thoughts.

Deliver him, I pray,
to my insight’s prediction, unaided, unabated”

Gnawing her hands, her discernment was whetted.
And I, nibbling, stopped and looked away.




Him and She

If I could stop and give what you wanted to see,
still the axis by the flick of my fingers
and pause this perpetual motioning,
I would.
And things would tilt and change
in a slow-paced cooker,
cast-iron windowpanes,
and frames and frames of days and hours just like this.

But I am not this.
I cannot still
and be what is right here and now
in this splice of time-worn space that is constantly
slipping forward on a light-drawn pace.
For the earth that moves in the heart of me
is drawn by a rending gravity,
all sliding in dance;
one-step, two,
towards the sea.


Featured image: a photo of  ‘Space that Sees’ by James Turrell at the Israel Museum, Jerusalem