i thought, all
the best words
have been heard
this day,
i should put
mine away
but a little
word told me
that old words
are still useful
and should not
be put away
on a whim
that new layers
of meaning
discerning
just words away,
are still longing
for the tip
of the tongue
so i took out
some words
and listened
one word, not
unheard of
and not at a
loss for me
stepped down
and showed how
the best words
(even words
like with,
was, became)
speak volumes,
not just invested
in stone or
hidden in hearts
but borne alive,
tested, poured out
louder than words.
it fits in small
stubborn places
under the radar
it over comes
a quiet entrance
it rides upon
and first appears
to simple creatures
your point of
entry was and
still is tarnished
by hearts and
hands that tend
to re-designs
yet tiny fingers
wrap around the
deepest distance
when we don't
see or hear
the angel words
that less is more
as proven by your
act of stooping
to such a tiny
low down love with
arms extended.
many things
this two
thousand eight
done and said
in his name
which would
make jesus
roll over
in his grave
if he were
still in it
tho he seems
quite content
for now
to watch
and wait
along with
many others
of us who
would like
to hear
hear the
last word.
this faithful wick
will waste a braid
to lend some light
a last black gasp
remembering
just enough bright
to show what might
amount to some
thing more than word
or flesh alone,
a sacrifice;
promises don't
arrive on time
they wait for when
we wait for them
like this, with wicks.
under all of this
reaching up
and climbing
for god's sake,
clamoring for the
climax of more
see the quiet
reaching down
extending shade
having it made.
last golden light
touches the tallest
out on a limb
extremities of trees
as if to say
cling to your vine
and i'll be back
for i'm going to
prepare a place
with a full space
for each of you
some limbs hear and
some see, some limbs
ask for more and
numb with unbelief
we may believe
before we sleep.
as i watched the
low hanging shade
settle into dusk
a thousand shades of
green going to sleep
and two red birds
singing hard to get
some timid stars
came out to watch
the evening cool
slip under her covers
and we all wondered
with a feather of hope
whether this tired
world would weather
yet another day or
wake up in heaven.
winter wonderland
was one big snow job
her would-be death wish
a credible white lie
sheep clothing covered
tundra turned soft
melting her frozen
brooding facade to
reveal a breeding
ground for green
blades of living
proof of resurrection.
will you be found
behind some stone
where we feared
you would be
at the sudden
downright early
end of story?
should we watch
impossible places
where you said
you would be
after three
dark days of
resignation?
is that you
standing with a
gardener's patience
for your voice
to register
as you speak
our given names?
one day might
we step out of
our good grief
to just believe
you not only say
as you do but
do as you say?
would we suffer
so much loss
to choose a
simple faith in
the first fruits
of your red
stained stead?
even when the miles
have us lonely
these miles are
no metrics of
this distance
your hazel eyes
close now so far
from our horizon
your stored smile
spreads into mind,
resurrecting mine
your memory
dampens our
dormant waiting
and my eyes close
too, as they do
to focus closer
on the lovely
space we keep
carved for you
it's bigger than
this empty home's
long waiting walls
whose echoes
listen for your
voice returning
i can sponge
your image off
the quiet ceiling
but it's flat
unlike the layers
your love has
the bed won't
sleep, the sink
drips empty
the furniture
knows you're
coming back
and so do we
three, weathering
these days ok
while you care
for yours over
there, you wade
through duress
in your duty
of dying love
somewhere god
is singing
in the shower
not unaware
of the dare of
death's demeanor
a stead to which
god has paid
personal prices
dues which even
lend a hand to
you this day
true to a curse
and a blessing,
met with mercy
which we pray
will visit, grace
not withstanding
our reunion is
neither here nor
there, as of yet
while you are
lovely, lately
but by god timely
away from here
until the tables
would turn this.
what spark is not
a holy shot of
risk obsessed by
village embers bent
on brighter missions
what spark will not
defy the stupid dark
to win a streak or
stoke a few more
irons in fire
what spark would not
rise to occasion
give its life
for light, no greater
love than this
what spark despises
shame or steers
from fear when
burning out is
death's undoing
these sparks know
how to love
they know the sleep
dark waives when coals
are heaped up high.
though we hardly
knew you, Francine
we do remember
there was only one
of you, Francine
our hearts are tender
things were looking up
for you, Francine
with feet to stand
folks were looking out
for you, Francine
with helping hands
your mother called
for you, Francine
but no one answered
what the world would be
with you, Francine
we're left to wonder
things are looking up
for you, Francine
your struggle's ended
tears are just
one way, Francine
our hearts are mended
heaven came too soon
for you, Francine
to take your hand
you were taken early
from us, Francine
to a farther land
no dreams are better
than this, Francine
in the shepherd's care
save a quiet place
for us, Francine
we'll meet you there.
Francine was a girl in Rwanda who collapsed one day, she died suddenly and her cause of death is unknown. She was survived by her mother and brothers and sister.
i do hesitate
to rant but
i'm taunted
to no end
such a minor
short coming
but i am
an almost moon
incomplete by
a day or two
and i reflect
on my estate
i get a round
to recounting
all that has
come my way
bright light
spent on me
a perfect circle
almost in reach
i do have my
flat sides
and this one
is eclipsed
by one who
hides my light
under a bushel
oh, yes, you
have your light
and you hoard it
what on earth
is going on?
that any savior
worth his salt
would sprinkle it
scatter it around
conspicuously
like light
or a city
on a hill.
of any finite line
two friends huddle in
manufactured comfort
pride and ignorance
pomp their circumstance
preen their monotone
stereo is lost on them
but near the center
where there is tension
formation is informed
words weave a rubric
of slow sifted light
humility finds a home.
of false ones too
but i am the only
true dichotomy
for i was made
in someone
else's image.
beautiful name
and she's tame to
fame, she's a runner
and she runs away
from me, leads me
into a parking lot
without any lines
or spaces, she
feigns imminence
but all that shines
is blindness, time
will dine with
understanding while
we wait a spell
for a table with
crystal, clear.
rapid days, dreams
dance in and out
of light, drumming
i can tell when
those eyes of yours
lean into rest, and
i don't mind, when
yours is worn
a kiss can test
when closed eyes
tell tales or
any traces of
tears that might
have led you
through trouble
spin a web of
prayer over closed
eyes to sleep them
off to peace, and
heaven hushes you
morning light is
impatient but she
waits, anyway.
of notes or words
a thick one that
pushes truth up
write it down
stick it down on the
town square, there,
that's the way
you share it
from the one
who gave it.
to store which
types of treasure
hands are spinning
too slow to see
too fast to measure.
scatter, gather, the
small swarm of a few
minds, each with
history and victory
loves and losses
dreams and dents
we arrive together
when we leave
behind self
keeping only what
we give away
we see god
and we sharpen
one the other.
these women thought:
we will help god
and our own grieving
with the crash landing
of a savior's plans
we at the very least
will care for the body
as we bend our tears;
but how will we possibly
move the stone away
how will we help god
with this act of love
if only god could
help us now.
innocent
pure
holy
harmless
vulnerable
breathing
willing
sincere
loving
loyal
serving
compassionate
peace making
persistent
purposeful
prayerful
tired
patient
sorrowful
lonely
accused
bruised
defiled
thorn pricked
wounded
pierced
bleeding
bleating
inflicted
mocked
traded
abandoned
forsaken
crushed
exhausted
ransoming
silent
lamb of god,
who traveled
with death
to the tomb
and waited
for a time
then left death
on her own
with the stones.
before the light
illumines much
evidence of
what we're made
early red rays
of sun paint
the tips of
eager branches
with bold promises
early birds know
full well of want,
who chirp their
lament that all the
worms are frozen
they notice near
and far too many
hungry eyes and
hearts look for
hope to hasten
while the other end
of contrast sips
a full cup of
plenty but knows
the taste of empty
how long we wait
for what was given
that we would know
a taste of heaven
here, slowly proven.
stood next to me
in a pool of light
darkness has
no business
here, i said
you're the one who
blocks the light
said the shadow
we work together,
bright light and i,
casting contrast.
colors thrive on
the perks of angels,
they spawn a spectrum
over level headed
clouds of gold
on a high horizon,
toasting the sun
farewell between
the two kingdoms.
the sun retreats from
a week of extremes
a gradient of
golden dreams
and red screams
tempered like
the lit sky
all the colors
of rise and fall
to be redeemed
some day.
in a moment
of brilliance
light on the wings
stands still
at high speed
holds a pose and
caters a proxy
of promise
scattering rays
of grace
too great
for one place.
i see heaven
in thin slices
shredded and
cast down on
shadow lattice
taken for gratis
by gaps of grace
and by leaving
some spaces for
light's leeway;
a mind's eye
reminded of
stripes by which
we are healed.
cherished rationale
may forfeit truth
for the sweet fruit
of self sufficiency
mystery, in the back,
looks lonely each
time some vessel
rides with reason
in the front seat
not that mystery
doesn't love company
or even more so
that feeling
of incarnation
when vertical blinds
will tear the veil
and slice some
bright light back
into proper view
things not seen
like pearls by pigs
might emerge like
the woman who gets
more than crumbs
there's a twist but
no silver platter
when quiet keys
and final clues
knock on the door.
layer of rain
bows the light
into a slow simmer
dancing on the diesel
on the seasoned road
water too weary to
rise up into beads
as would the morning dew
these waters don't part
except for earthworms
who fancy this
expansive treadmill
a naively safe place
and reasonable pace
to approach distant
promised lands.
minute
are you telling me that
life distills into
one slow motion second
quietly measured for
volume, density and
import, as quick as a
split second recognition
of a sheep or a goat,
one thousand one?
the full summation of
our fits and starts
where allegiance lies
obedience if expended or
hoarded, by and large,
out of love or habit or
whether compassion was spent
carving crosses in the air
like there was no tomorrow?
today we find we're
slowly in tow by turtles
inching a tedious road
to learn old lessons
while a blurry spirit,
as if to mercy me,
watches and waits,
heavy laden groans
heaping up grace.
speaks when spoken to
seen and not heard but
full of second thoughts
and clouded by doubt
hardly an original sin
yet often repenting; now
born again, now recanting;
the push and pull of waves
tormenter of wolves
could indecision and
reflection over how to
tell the truth ever be
more predictable or
beautiful than this?
frantic fingers
clutching tight
but not grasping,
fist over hand
can't hold a
candle to the
covering calm,
the forgiveness
and mighty altitude
of hand over fist
climbing up the
ropes of peace
with sheer progress
in place of forging
wealth and power
with molten strands
of tarnished toil.
let the light
wick the warm wax
out of solid state
into liquid ways
let the light pool
this puddle into a
bright beam which
though it waver
sends a stream
of illumined rays
whenever our
numbered days
give pause to rest.
tying strings around the
world's fingers, knotted
sideways reminders for
distracted wanderers
god was watching me today
my web of strings attached
to times and promises to
have and to hold and to do,
my marbled humble efforts
a friend was watching
the silence of god today
with questions on the
lack of intervention when
things get out of hand
every one has faith, which
rests on our choices, how
we cling to our conclusions
in pride's tug of war with
observation and conviction
this friend chose a different
faith, of disbelief in the
mystery of word, belief in
stead in attempted goodness
for goodness' sake, solo
god was watching us today
heavenly hopes and fears,
mixed tears freezing and
swarming their way down
like prayers wrap around.
for this season
to begin with
oh christmas tree
which for a time
lived among us
and we saw your
glory, light of
grace and truth
now you wait broken
and forsaken by
the cold curb
to be chipped into
mulch for the sake
of future trees
a better metaphor
than ever intended
of a love appended
and in early
observance, here
comes a winter rain.
roaming the roads that
were built today
entering doors
that opened the way
for the spirit
of hope and stay.
the moon rests her envy
as i revel in the
sun's reminder of you
in bloom, indiscriminate
rays that flood tangent
lives with warmer ways
and there's the way the
ones who know you know
how much they need you
you are, you are
all that i need
for whom i am
when the sun would tire
still it will warm the
shudders of cold shadows
a boon who draws near
and not to be taken away
lightly, i dare to fear
and your smile, the
corner of which will
provoke our comfort
you are, you are
all that i need
for whom i am
's work, her life
's measure or meaning
or a man
's for that matter
is all chaff; where
's the wheat,
a thinking person
's mind might wonder?
it
's blown by the wind
's indiscriminate
judgement, in it
's haste to parse chaff
's best assets
for is
'nt life
's apostrophe
god
's belonging when wind
's bathwater
's baby is rescued?
from reality
cake and to eat it
too, and to be a
popular prophet
or a noble man
a likeable preacher
yet truth telling
or if nothing else
a perfect father
a model husband
a loyal friend
or if nothing else
to feed a mind's eye
a humble poet
yet truth telling
a reminder of rhythm
a student of light
a sponsor of laughter
that heals a heart
i want a just cause
to wage peace on war
a faith that grows
bolder, not older
a helpful hand
empty of self
ready sacrifice
for all the word
or if nothing else
then at least
not a hypocrite
found wanting
if all else fails
i want to be found
aware of how much,
content with little
for in reality
i can see dimly
blurred images of
things hoped for.
of word of wonder
would plunder a
long standing place
for a tentative race
your word be done
on earth as it is
in heaven - is how
you've played it, an
image we couldn't see
until you made it
out of light come
to visit and the
risk of god's labor
in a mother's favor
the trusted vestment
of heaven's host
in a not so stable
space, a personal
taste of this race
you imploded fullness
and time into flesh
and place, in rhyme
with covenants, your
role reversal in mime
we clutter the matter
with gifts that flatter
but through this haze
your gift comes, grace
on a generous platter.
the god of ever
became empty for me
forgetting, forgoing
a long sure identity
in order to franchise
a lifting grace
among the falling;
in order to isolate
fullness in desolate
constrained places
by taking on complaint
directly, not holding
but letting go, not
hiding home but flying
willing, down to danger;
the eloquent new star
explained far more
than eloquent women
and men with their
words and pens could
point out how complete
this strange plan
began that day;
only belief, like a
child, in the birth
of mystery surprised
on the unsuspecting,
can resolve how
love was planted
in the image of
innocence, emptied.
the moon is worn
would you be born
at the darkest hour
would you be torn
by tarnished faces
it's not fate
that hay adorns
would you mourn
the stooped frame
would you scorn
the burden of flesh
fend off hate
death is warned
of a coming mend
for torn friends
would you warm
our cold advances
truth tends to
well up in waiting
as if with thirst
we were made and
our hearts a sponge
and our borrowed
souls will sample
a saturated fate
from the taste of
a poured out cup
so drink in deeply
the clear water
which alone can
quench deepest
love's longing
there's no shame
in gulping it,
let the corner
trickle down with
the over flow
and yearn, while
sounds of each
swallow sooth the
parched lips that
crave for enough
of this living water
that won't run dry
for like a horn
of plenty it likes
to spill over.
waves an
oval reminder
of a simple
arrival
the others
wait their
willing turn
to burn and
remember
they wait
for weeks
and the
light grows
with each
these wicks
that pivot
the chances
of beloved
creatures
misdirected hands
bent on futile ends
did not fend hatred's
foolish gravity
unfair, rwanda knows a
brave girl of fifteen,
mother to her siblings
for ten years already
she's trying to climb
the steep slow rhyme
between striving and hope
the slippery slope is
inclined to discourage,
the end of her rope has
tested her faith and
teased her courage
but the fruit of love's
labors not in vain
grows on the vine grace
which she can taste
and with some help
she more than reaches
it, bent on extending
the branch to others
terracing hope on
a long steep slope.
In awe of this brave orphan and follower of Jesus.
careful glances
can sift the usual
range of sight
when eyes train on
uncommon distance
beyond presence
with a view to
understanding the
spirit of truth
in the world
spying through
ordinary spaces
eyes wander past
the plausibility
of so-called
ordinary time, to
ever lasting words
graceful gestures
hearts and hopes
healed and whole
fruit that lasts
wisdom warms us to
a wider view of
the many faces of
mystery, secrets that
only children know
churning the blur
into some distilled
crisper silhouette
of three persons
about their work in
this tender world
carrying on so
to bring about
such a long party
toward which
even commoners
can come, who
on bended knee
undermine normal
while the end
and the means
are amended.
not like clockwork
more like breathing
we taste a memory
broken, shed, spent,
when dubious worth
was realized no doubt;
so much passion is vested
in this periodic table
of the elements
intricate and simple
the bread and cup
remind and fill us up
with a small sip of
god's best mystery.
considered the leaf
or are we all
of every color
prone to a fall
just as rose petals
know, so do risen
and faded kingdoms
how winds can change
a stead of course
mine is a good life
and recently mine
are dreams of a new
and glorious flight
from my familiar tree
a cherished wish
to relax and release
riding a fickle wind
in a sigh of relief
on journey's whim
now i'm free falling
into the mystery
of incarnate travels
to prepare a place
for seeds of hope
some lament the loss
in piles of dead leaves
but the wind welcomes
me down to earth
to dream of new birth
so i fall, free, through
this tentative season
green blushes into gold
as i tumble into grace
resting in a new place.
the way that velcro
will hunker down
all self sufficient
do i cling to others
a burr holding tight
for dear life's keeping
and seeking acceptance
do i cling to things
filling up the wrong cup
displacing abundance
with exaggerated bounty
do i cling to dreams
chasing like the wind
at the costly expense
of runaway discontent
do i cling to the past
not to be forgotten
longing, to be sure,
for the way we were
do i cling to god
abiding and remaining
hoping to bear fruit
making myself at home.
we relegate time to arbitrary zones
a feeble mandate of where it should
go first, next, how fast, how far,
like some river's locks and dams
but time has higher purposes
not always deemed fit to be
divulged to under-age travelers;
in linear fashion it moves steady
without much deference to whether
daylight is really saved or lost
for most of the saving of time
or squandering for that matter
has not to do with efficient
management of its zones, or
where the hands are pointing
when dawn and dusk embark
but in the tone of our voices
the tenderness of our gaze
the helpfulness of our hands
the timing of our sacrifices
the telling of truth and seeking
of wisdom while she may be found
the orientation of our worship
mercy's courtship with justice
the flow of laughter and tears
the savoring of daily bread
served undeserved, timely, and
if shared, sufficient for all.
don't let our hearts
drift in this place
where the rushing waters
have built walls, where
a thin hope has drawn
a long and troubled face
and torn down trust
in a struggling race
with mouths to feed and
hand to mouth, you see
as always if ever now
more fears than heroes
wade their way around
help on the way, delayed
las left a troubled stead
even the levee took leave
couldn't contain the grief
whose flood flows freely
the questions and answers
still evading their balance
where are we going
where could we go
to be home again
and when will we return
when it's our turn
to yearn no more
when will heaven
reach us or will these
rising waters bring
us closer, somehow,
to knowing the father
of it all, watching to
see what we're made of:
depravity, yes, but
what else will surface
beyond the reach of a
hurricane force, but
not out of touch, the winds
of change have not weaned
us from the sense of
what a kingdom should be
while vultures swoop
and snipers, looters
entertain their essence
don't leave us now, just
when it seems apparent
there's nothing more left
might we all be left with
all that we need, in you
so tear down the levees
that divide that which
should be joined together.
(talking to god about katrina)
while billows roll
glowing coals boil the
angry cloud pillows
to let off some steam;
their beauty lies
about violent skies
which kissed the ground
and spun the dusk around
oh, the storms that started
when a life was stopped
before it was finished
hopes were punished
homes have vanished
the sun, embarrassed
to have painted such a
big commotion as this,
slinks under night's cover
announcing the closure
of the day, unconcerned
as to whether or not
we were yet finished
now the horizon of sleep
escapes on a curve
as imagination
replays pictures
of those who mourn
with twisting tears
many of us believe
that god weeps,
too, while tired eyes
slip to sleep to store
more energy for prayer
and still believing,
while still grieving.
(an evening of storms, thunder, clouds, tornados which took at least one life in a nearby town; beautiful skies and peaceful sunset, for those unaware of the toll that was taken)
past the open gate,
knocking, with waited breath
there's an invitation
a familiar welcome
bring me in to stay
hide me away today
where the flower blooms
and a long hope lasts
mellow music sustains
the lion and lamb
reclining, this is good
if i had thought of that
while i wandered
would they, i wonder
why do you send me out
where love has grown cold
hungry stares, they hurt
what if i linger here
by the fire, a while
the road takes its toll
the journey makes wary
those fears and tears
whose questions grow weary
on me, with these years
their war, your war,
or study war no more
could be the refrain
if you'd refrain from
letting history wander
yet there remain
sheepish eyes and smiles
wanting to be found
to be hidden in you
what might we do
the music comes around
a gust sweeps the ground
rock of ages sure
let me hide myself
then send me out again
ministry loves company
i won't go without
love, joy, peace,
the comforter, and
all their friends.
just a word, a notion,
she was praised as
one who was open to
almost anything, except
to those who chose
too narrow a way
she felt supreme
like a perfect cup
of coffee might
when it's personalized
whatever flavor appeals most
to you, cream, sugar, none
not even embarassed
that somehow she had
been elevated as an idol,
tolerance looked away
all hurt and bothered
when truth had a word
she guarded the notion that
personal preference, relational
ease, situational ethics
had all but trumped
any designated views of a
designer's lines or wishes
but mine over matter
form hollowed by function
and the pied piper swiped
true instincts of the heart
who raised her right hand
to ask a simple question
why does believing
have to sit in the back
or not use a ruler
or bend the knee to
the random wanderlust of
eager-to-please dreamers?
in the prior lie
that making space for
every curious chase
is more important than
god's frame, with grace,
we've lost our place
a crude alternative,
judgement was there too
grumbling and taking notes
keeping tabs, snapping pictures
subject to scrutiny and
eager for sentencing
humility, mystery and truth
the temperate trio, could
only cringe while tolerance
went on her postmodern binge
holding every thought
captive in the wide open.
to speak of any longer
but in the apparent
vulnerability of absence
and removal of
peripheral clutter
more was revealed
than had been known
to casual observers
and astute practitioners
of seeking, and finding.
that'll take a look
at you, it's true
those eyes
on the pages
under the covers
have seen the ages
near and far
the things we fear
or strain to hear
or struggle to bear
the arms of true words
can wrestle you down
but they can also
lift you up
out of the mire
when they get
a grip on you
a firm embrace
you might run
only to realize
god is reaching
after and ahead.
ripe, is ringing
braided with strains
of pain groaning
and beautiful sighs
there is no acapella
in our echo chamber
where wheat and weeds
mingle on their strings
to craft a chorus
a steady percussion
tackles what matters
tickles some order
out of deep wrinkles
in our tempted time
if music could molt
would its outer sounds
absorb our tears
to bear up under
with strains of joy?
we listen, resonate,
awaiting the refrain
resolution rallies
sometimes singing
and god takes note.
(my word)
is on your side
whatever side
you're on -
not your particular
case or package
of perception
or preference
not your
attempted solo
but you;
made from mud
in a spitting image
of the one
who loves you
rooting for you
to come around.
dry dirt will dream
of the color of lush
fragile with fragrance
spiriting moisture
out of brittle brush
that would otherwise
disappoint the root
under desert sands
shattered spears
and broken bows
speak volumes of hope
drowning out the whine
of the winds of hate
tough mirage tenderized
into green pastures
there is a river
whose streams make
the city smile;
god will help her
at the break of day.
(psalm 46 etcetera)
where blood is flush
where ancestors
and children
swear it's true
there flows a flood
soaked in glory
where meaning
laps at the rim
and pours over
there flows a flood
of covering love
where fullness swells
filling presence
with humble power.
heaven come down
or take me up
would you believe
these well meaning
hands and feet
slipping and sliding
if still abiding
against the tide
nothing like heaven
waiting on earth
with pangs of birth
and valley of death
or shadow of dirge
cast on the verge
i know, you said
you're coming soon
i know the tune
shepherd come near
whose staff quells evil
and rod tames fear
the ready space
shaped like you
is longing
fill it up
or come down here
and take me up.
but a new look at you
like when morning dew
decorates my view
casting truth with a hue
that appears to be new
truth reveals, in light
of its roots in you.
try my heart
visit me by night
that i might see
the face of god
will i wrestle to win
or will i lose to you
to find something new
i have a hold, and
i will not let you go
until you bless me
change my name
if you have to
as i struggle with you
and with humans
and tell the story.
(jacob, genesis 32, psalm 17, and for all who wrestle)
lay down your guard
lay down your sword
lay down your burden
lay down your heart
lay down your life
lie down in green pasture
receive god's good again
restoring your soul
on the right path.
conjures up heaven
echoes of jubilee
setting slaves free
from that which binds
our hearts and minds
under god's unfettered gaze.
off the highway
there's a freeway
with leeway
if only we seek
on our way away
from the garden
there's an inway
a better way
if only we ask
on our way down
to the valley
there's a doorway
a side way
if only we knock.
you don't have to wait
until you die
to meet
your maker.
woman with a stare
child who's now an orphan
sister who-knows-where
all wondering
what purpose
has been furthered?
what's the treasure
in killing
what's the pleasure
in hate
by what measure
does violence
or vengeance rate?
as we forgive those
who trespass against us,
comfort is late.
steadfast, she
is not fazed
by loud sounds
of silence
although she
spills tears
and remembers
while she walks
she knows
to rest and
then she runs
the steady pace
of the race
against hate
in spite of
bitter loss
she counted
the cost already
in case her heart
might hesitate;
true to the path
she tunnels
with love's light
through the haze.
remembering the people of London on 7/7
in one sense
but if really
then why are
we waiting
one day,
surrounding
will resound
as fruition
dawns on us
not yet,
for the time
while at hand
waits for a day
that's appointed
on hold,
this wait
we didn't want
but at least
there's music
coming,
maybe soon
maybe later
with full fill
meant for all
pending,
the moon
sheds light
on the night
before tomorrow.
outside of common
in borrowed gear
passing through
with a secret
aware of story
beyond ordinary
that intervenes
on the usual
onlookers
in stunned science
can't explain
what will prove
to stump theory
as unseen powers
move mountains
here to there
with more to spare
passengers
with curiosity
to die for
might inquire
with willing ears
about powers
that be
they might
even ask me
even angels
may argue over
what is usual
and what is not
for the laws
of nature
were made
to be broken
more than not.
as a token
would you think of it
as a useless crumb
torn from the loaf
and about to dry out
tasteless and crumbled
or would you remember
something you never
saw for yourself
but within reach
of the touch
of the teacher
who spoke not as one
with presumption
but passion
and wisdom
and truth
not only
THE word
with words
but also
with action
whose body
was broken
as a token
of appreciation
for this creation
broken as
we might be?
like a paper trail
of printed page
could accomodate
the best ends
of the spectrum
to be in balance
kerning truth
left aligned
right aligned
aware of center
justified by faith
with margin for error
humbly tracking
spaces of meaning
with ears to hear
and eyes to see
parsing wisdom
and understanding
from knowledge.
meekness hosts humility
for dinner, with grace
simply pleasant
princess and peasant
chewing conversation
each sip of thought
ripples a round
of neighbor smiles
now knowing
how laughter
feeds a friend
whose eyes
share my fears
and dreams of days
where food is full
and music swells;
grey with youth
we laugh aside
the strains of life;
contentment
serves enough
for everyone, for
bounty comes from
the outlook inside,
the maker's manna
that some have tasted
and found their fill.
which speaks louder
than words
before words
however fragile
could be exhausted
war, the score
which counts on
a downplayed tally
of fallen pawns
while the elite
recount their policy
war, the dogma
like some assumed
patriotic posture
a function of duty
without deference
to a ration of reason
war, the irony
trusting in bullets
while children
stop shrapnel
involuntary victims
with no collateral
war, the exercise
of impatience
on the treadmill
of vengeance
with budgets and blood
running red
war, the reality show
embedded reporters
with shreds of ignorance
remote and graphic
for a demographic
with a remote
war, the dance
its makers and mongers
quite curiously
not exemplified
in the sermon
on the mount
war, the evil
that is necessary
just a fraction
of the times
that it is invoked
even in god's name.
in a pod
became enemies
over god
wouldn't that
be odd.
who cries
with wondering eyes
there's a mother
with hope
at the end of her rope
there's a man
who aches
from his mistakes
there's a place
underway
where we can stay
let's go there
soon, but now
while we wait
see the open gate
touch a hand
dry a tear
of a heart
that's near
there's a cup
that's sweet
and tastes complete
there's a burden
that's light
and feels just right
there's a path
that's small
and worth it all
there's a street
that's gold
where lives unfold
let's go there
soon, but now
while we wait
see the open gate
touch a hand
dry a tear
of a heart
that's near.
tries to cope
and dreams
drown in streams
when meadows
cast shadows
and mystery
mocks history
i'll be back
like a drink
that returns
from the brink
when dawn
lingers long
and waiting
keeps ringing
when time
finds its rhyme
and surprise
fills your eyes
i'll be back
like a season
that waited
with reason.
again
and i don't mind
i wait on you
a friend
i always find
you make me strong
again
and I don't mind
we soar along
again
with hope in kind
and i can fly just like an eagle
and i can run and not be weary
and i can sing and never falter
and i can walk and never faint
i wait on you
again
and what is time
when i'm with you
and then
between the lines
you whisper true
again
your word in mind
we soar along
again
with hope in kind
and i can fly just like an eagle
and i can run and not be weary
and i can sing and never falter
and i can walk and never faint
Technorati Profile
the laden brow
muzzles a frown
of blue to brown
the edge of down
slides sideways
gripping a slope
it can't recant
teetering on trance
as if bracing
the slow train
to topple out
someone intervenes
tipping tiles
of leaven light
into visible bright
paving a path
for soul to center
back in balance
the way of worship.
when blue
split love in two
why did they
choose to play
with a dark day
how did i
offend your sky
that i should die
when did we
fail to see
this misery
why did you
touch the blue
for my stead too
like god
with a sigh
paired with a smile
being and seeing
a longer while
with a clock
that runs slowly
pondering what
next to create
or the measure
of what we've made
if we could be
like god
with answers for
all these questions
even perhaps
the hardest ones
if we could explain
all the mysteries
too big to spell
to simple creatures
too soon to spill
until some future
and while i wonder
i see the plunder
hoarding and lording
tempting the fate
of others with wars
and fear and hate
and then i see
a hand reach out
with a kingdom key
while voices sing
and hearts burn
hands take a turn
if we could be
like god
to corner the dark
with a chase of light
would it be nice
to set things right
with a taste
of heaven
that conjures life
in this thin day
and in the next,
a hope and stay.
tasted hate
whether outright
or by proxy
or by hypocrisy
hate in spite
of reason
is quite
the bitter fate
empty of late
tit for tat
where does that
lead you
a long wait
at the gate
the taste of hate
drink it straight
is a shot
not without
traces of drought.
with your views
while we peruse
with patience
a plural
of angles
that might
untangle
this maze
of ideas
feed me
with your clues
while we chase
with passion
your mystery
of mind
with body
and soul
in tow
behind love
humor me
with your muse
while we tease
with reason
to sift
the clusters
of penciled
precepts
and intuit
the word.
let your voice
be heard
in the morning
when you wake
if you believe
let your hands
be seen
in the shape
of your heart
if you believe
let your footsteps
be found
in the dark
of the night
if you believe
let your faith
be known
in the light
of the way
if you believe
let your heart
be heard
in the pulse
of our god.
wears a thin face
loves a dim space
devil with no d
bids we not see
what remains
under time's test
a coated crust
won't cover rust
a dozen deceptions
painted with guise
pasted over lies
we'd be surprised
to find in whom
the devil can hide
when we are wise
in our own eyes
a thin disguise
parading over there
but lurking within
spinning sin
self swept in
others left out
with a quiet shout
tempest tossed
when all was lost
but day dawned
for open eyes
a single ray
lights the way.
up and down
against the gravity
of our days
whip your wind
full around
sweep dust and rust
strain the haze
whisper quiet
bend the breeze
feather our ears
mend our hearts.
a predilection
for insurrection
according to a section
of jaded faction
hear the rejection
at the auction
false conviction
with compunction
but without ration
see the crucifixion
wounded affliction
chosen substitution
for fallen action
was his friction
believe the nonfiction
his resurrection
a continuation
of god's redemption
was his function
taste the compassion
for our malfunction
the reconstruction
from fallen condition
and dissatisfaction
feel the conviction
of infraction
accept affection
with connection
to god's completion
embrace participation
with communication
and demonstration
of god's benediction
for all creation.
belief spins a web
threading the heart
with mind and emotion
weaving reflection
around will and devotion
a textured faith fabric
surrounding reason
in any season
girding thought
savoring experience
while the spirit steps
a delicate dance
science has a question
to inform the quest
the spirit is willing
but the soul knows
the eyes can disguise
a mistaken prize
icons and idols
wait in the wings
ready to offer
a package deal
to be like god
a mystery solved
good seeds just grow
their leaves weave
a faith that glows
no words convey
all the patterns
a believer knows
where grace is known
and mercy is shown
love is sown
fruit is borne
faith mingles
a myriad flavor
faith invites you
to stretch above
over and through
god's created quilt
to be woven around
a vine that's true.
of secrets of a scale
that one could believe
if not deceived
in a voice
hushed with a blush
of apprehension
vulnerable tension
several hisses later
lest sacred whispers
would whisk a secret
away to stay
but eager love
spills over to say
of the full way
to see the day.
does not waver
does not fray
when i stray
does not depend
on my end
you even make
a way to mend
the broken strand
when i tend
to fend, feebly
for myself.
did i leave too soon?
with words and thoughts unspoken
in lieu of perfect timing
that never arrived
leaving hopes harnessed,
dreams delayed
did i leave too late?
afraid to let go,
not one for proper endings
clinging to long shadows
tarried by worry
for those who remain
in the leavingdid i leave too quietly?
there's a grieving
for the days
and ways
we might have wanted
robbing your hearts
of time to resolve
sneaking away
through the back entrance
absence unprepared
did i leave too loudly?
rocking the boat
ruffling feathers
taking my wing
with a sting
and a bang
in the leavingdid i leave too slowly?
there's a heaving
of storms
and norms
we might have lived
stretching time long
and perseverance thin
wrinkled tic toc hands
extending the crawl
spending the calendar
did i leave too quickly?
snuffing your tear
rushing your fear
leaving no process
to assess loss
and treasure essense
in the leavingdid i leave awkwardly?
time is weaving
a new quilt
without guilt
savoring the hours
delicate details
deliberate decisions
plans and people
calls and cards
stolen normalcy
did i leave mysteriously?
perhaps, but
we know well
that ashes belong
where they came from
and me, where i am
in the leaving
there's rejoicing
for a new space
a better place
where tears are gone
i hope i left just right,
with a smile
a warm embrace
a living memory
wrapped and warmed
by god's love above.
thinking of a friend's mother, who has left this life and body for a more perfect one
infinite as only clouds know
meets the bluest sea
constrained to shores and floors
the line of the horizon
recounts the story
of maker and creation
set apart by capacity
sharing color and image
yet in the language of scope
struggling to communicate
between time and regret
there was a lapse
temporal trumped eternal
a time of truth tested
by fallible and feable
self interest opted ironically
turning out to be neither
not the first time
where inward now
had unseated
upward thou
but waiting
on the wings
was the word
like a bird
broken and given
vending heaven
swept under
and poured over
a cup filled up
plunges the flow
of covering love
like a dove hovers.
to my faith, if i
were to rest my
hopes that mystify
when you justify
my faulty notions, i
wonder if time
would eventually cry
out that i
have stumbled
upon quite a find
and it is good.
if you were to
test if i
hold a candle
true to your light
or a shaker of salt
that tells a taste
of your goodness
willing to die
as it were, for
a friend, or some
dust or clay formed
in the image of
someone far greater
than i,
would you agree
that we
have stumbled
upon quite a find
and it is good?
your eyes are fat
with grease
the peace
you pretend
offends me
as exempt
from contentment
as a stone
i resent
your contempt
for enough
your enough
is just a puff
that's gone
your disease
will tease
but not please
you grab
to gain
at any cost
your loss
is letting go
of your soul
where is joy?
you ask but
can't afford it
true luxury
is not painted
but shared
simplicity
and generosity
watch you gasping
reminding you
that air is free
for breathing
true living
is a love
for giving.
not flesh nor form
not fumes nor fiction
it bears witness
intuits and reaches
for scarce completion
in its desire
it testifies
to its source
like my maker
yet finite; both
escaping words
son shines down
soul reaches up
spirit hovers
a piece of puzzle
awaiting its neighbor
embracing expectation
i yearn for fullness
far beyond this ball
the kingdom come
but crude distractions
pull my gaze
sideward, downward
cries, and lies
self, and wealth
jingle and jangle
all compete for
my deficit, disorder
in this tangle
it's simple,
i'm saved
but fallen
and waiting
for the train to
travel me home
maybe it follows
that while I wait
my hands and feet
might speak
with my mouth, of
knowing my maker.
up,
the maker of the universe
is almost visible
at the point of infinity
where the railroad tracks meet
from the steepest angle of view
down,
the specs of creation
are almost discernable
at the point of impunity
where pixels blur together
now we see dimly, but
behind,
the mirror is what turns
elusive vision into an image;
the reflection is uncanny
but cloudy, on this horizon.
on a restful sabbath sunday
once before a time
the word appointed
time into motion
with creation
time is
to word
as history
is to eternity
time is a slow mime
winding behind
a meandering line
aging like wine
when the tides turn
and the moon wanes
time keeps track
of seasons
not pausing long
for smiles or tears
no respecter
of days or years
measuring the past
time looks forward
at a steady pace
worthy of waves
in time
we find
an optimistic
and eager outlook
in any event
time is nothing
like it used to be
eventually history
in the long and
short of it
time is
temporal
there's no time
like the present
to live for
future moments
it's high time
we set off
toward making
the most of it
but at a pace
that lets grace
soak into the space
where god waits.
a prayer, for a friend
you see me,
through the fog
when the light
casts shadows
where i live
sometimes the road
goes on too long
when i stumble
you walk along
when i am weak
then you are strong
you hear me,
sounds too quiet
for the ear
unspoken words
and silent dreams
you hear my cry
all day long
you weave my tears
into a song
when i am weak
then you are strong
you touch me,
hands of mercy
making contact
taking time
with warm embrace
you take my hand
when i'm alone
dissolve my fears
that don't belong
when i am weak
then you are strong
you complete me,
in your image
tell the story
fill this cup
with your glory
when i step down
you take the throne
i lean upon
the living stone
when i am weak
then you are strong
time is still at hand
this morn of mourning
expectant sun seeking
those who search
in the darkest garden
find bright surprise
hear the voice with your name
a teacher's voice
with shepherd's assurance
see the hands and feet
god's mystery fulfilled
son's covenant complete
flesh fostered death, down;
the word forged life
perfect love lifting up
he shrugged off shame
pierced the darkness
trumpeting the stone away
division was derailed
a new temple unveiled
first fruits of the risen
the tables turned
sting of death spurned
sin's chains twisted in two
death's laugh
no longer the last
that was the past
hey! rejoice!
this bright dawn day
things are not the same
sound the signal
live, to tell the story
welcome the curious
solicit the soul
invite the intellect
and heavy hearts here
gather the scattered sheep
draw in the disheartened
even those who deny
pick up every prisoner
bring the blind, both kinds
and those with ears to hear
assemble women who weep
and men who mourn
old and young who yearn
sing with angels
trumpet on the mountain
whisper in every ear:
now, neither death
nor darkness divides us
from the love of the lord
time is still at hand
watchful eyes await
the sometimes hesitant harvest
speak and act his love
in and out of season
in light of the lamb, who lives.
where are you?
as naked night covers
this dark dawn day
see your hands and feet
god's mystery stranded
in a dead end street?
they took you for granted
left you for dead
so soon forsaken
was there no other cup?
as the sour taste taunted
did shadows finally conquer?
piercing spike and spear
eyes traced your tears
blood and sorrow mingled down
look, death is gloating
whose crass laughter
mocks your lifeless form
the empty throne looks lonely
heaven, swallowed by horizon
where they crossed and clashed
a silent tomb stone
cries cold dry tears
in the darkest garden
i was complicit
not far removed by time
the word, spilled and spent, for me.
when war pushes
past the point
of principle
i saw peace
climb from a mortar's crater
and beckon quietly:
consider me
i saw peace
dance from the corner
of the fire in
my enemy's eye
i noticed peace
befriending stealth
moving around, behind
over and above
peace sponges
wounds of the past
she quenches anger
in the trenches
peace inhales hatred
melting malice
she exhales a garden
love's liason
peace can remember
as well as forget
she knows when
a lesson is learned
peace runs the marathon
not the sprint
long outlasting
a slow lament
peace is patient
she can wait
when she suffers
wrong for long
peace is eager
but purposeful
she lived in the grave
for three days
peace knows pain
as an aquaintance
not as a friend
but as a neighbor
i saw peace
drink the cup
swallow the poison
quenching death
peace has wings
she springs
from underneath
and soars above
peace at risk
on a cliff
doesn't fall
she hovers
gently glides
over the ground
deliberate pace
with grace
over graves
without grimace
turning grief
to growth
when peace shines
light leans
on enemy lines
to form a circle
keep the peace
on a very long leash
or not at all
she'll grow tall
love peace
ponder foolishly
how we could live
without her
peace from a lamb
bought and broken
the word was given
sprinkled like leaven
peace poured out
like a quiet shout
she gently covers
over all
press your peace into my heart
even as it bleeds, I plead
draw a circle on the face of the deep
even as I weep, in the face of sleep
bend your ear to hear my cry
even as I try to hear you near
turn your eye, lest I die
take away this death of fear
spend your dreams on me
pray your spirit set me free
place your hand on my spine
contemplate my place in time
mess my clothes with your embrace
smoothed by measures of grace
seal my mouth with this taste
sprinkled with sacred sacrifice
strain my voice with words of hope
hear my faltering song of praise
stain my eyes with tears of joy
forge the streams into a river
crease my frown and smile together
into one finger that points to you
craft your joy on my forehead
shape compassion in my eyes
wrinkle my face with a trace
of memories that can't erase
purse my lips, to kiss
the ones whose love is this
gladly giving what is due
spilling out my life for you.
Inspired by a friend's prayer for the mother of another friend who was battling cancer in her spine.
after seeing this movie with some friends and a man from rwanda
the pot said
to the potter
vengeance is mine
i will handle this
evil schemers
bent on their own ends
bending the mind
turning the truth
hatred was planted
eating the heart
to make a neighbor's hands
do wicked work
the festering past
wrongs were suffered
rotting to foster
such deep wounds
see how the creature
runs so far
from the designs
of the creator
the pot said
that kettle is black
his act is sinful
her hatred is wrong
imagine my surprise
on looking inside
finding this poison
flowing in my veins
may we never
look the other way
when evil hands
go to work
may your body
broken for me
remind me of
the victory won
may your blood
prick my conscience
into tears of your pain
and acts of your love.
turn to grey
when your wishes
fade away
when the mirror
shows a trace
of what's hidden
by your face
shadows stumble
into view
truth tumbles
over you
when the battle
makes you weep
when the spoils
of war won't keep
when the hidden
comes to light
when the secret
sheds its might
shadows stumble
into view
truth tumbles
over you
and when peace
hides its face
wounded souls
take its place
you can hear
the children cry
tears will ask
the reason why
shadows stumble
into view
truth tumbles
over you
that which i esteem
to be important
to be so
you redeem
that which you esteem
to be important
to be whole.
with grace
so far from
the place
i was born
in the image
like a taste
reflection
like a face
but i was torn
away from
that space
me and
my race
to be wise
rumors
of a trace
of my creator's
sweet face
inside
invitation
make haste
mercy calls
let grace erase
what was due
you redeem
my race
i gladly
give chase
after you
bigger than they are
darkness may prance
teasing sorrow with
hypnotic trance
darkness may scream
filling the air
so silent it seems
piercing sadness
with unrealized dreams
does she wonder
about the last time
to ever taste a tear
if salty wounds were
more than she could bear?
does a light
when it falters
see its own light?
it still shines
in my eye
does fading flame
come to life?
darkness tamed
fueled with love
overcoming shame
keep burning
no need to burn brightly
keep turning
away from
shadows returning
shadows may dance
bigger than they are
darkness may prance
teasing sorrow with
hypnotic trance
keep on choosing
help is here to
heal the bruising
lift up your eyes
beyond this losing
drop your burden
breathe it out
breathe my word in
still easier
take my burden
make this choice
though darkness teases
hear my voice
friends and angels
ready to rejoice
let me hear you say
true thoughts of blue
let me hear you pray
i'll show you
the light of day
shining in spite
of lingering spiral
joy becomes might
shadows only dance
at the far edge of light
tempted
misunderstood
ignored
suspected
rejected
accused
betrayed
scarred
scourged
wounded
poured out
pierced
mocked
shamed
crucified
abandoned
he was,
for me.
created
crafted
counted
nurtured
known
accepted
forgiven
healed
cleansed
redeemed
reconciled
refined
purchased
purified
blessed
loved
i am,
by him.
your soft footsteps approaching
the peacefulness, uninterrupted.
i miss our conversation
the sound of your voice calling
the laughter we shared
i miss the innocence
i miss the life
i miss the living.
there was life
there was a canopy
of giving
there was truth
we didn't know lies then
we didn't see evil
except in ourselves
energy concentrated
sustaining cycle
fertile ground
for intimacy and joy
discovered
deceived
disappointed
disconnected
dispersed
you had a real green thumb
in your garden
such a long time ago
why weren't my roots deep enough
was i not pruned close enough
where did these thorns come from
we were good together
you breathed life
i gave the names
then i assigned blame
regarded equality
as something to be grasped.