John 8:12

Darkness-
Pore-suffocating,
Raw texture.

Touched with
tiniest flame,
gold scattered;
devoured it instantly
Like dehydrated tinder.

(So rushed in
welcome yet
painful light.)

The Good News

Time and desert passing,
time and desert more;
the heart, the throat
speak mysteries
revealed from time before.

The oceans had not been pinned back,
to reveal infant shores;
tender buds of green life
on earth’s new gleaming floors.

This news, this plan,
had entered in before
a single breath,
of mankinds lungs
for speech to state
the letter of daleth.

These feet, these words so beautiful,
though simple, fierce and plain-
God’s purposes, though strange to us
had love that took such pain.

(“Daleth”, I learned today, is the fourth letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Guess you learn something new every day!)

Searching

A matter of timing,
I know-

a word planted here,
stumbling,
staggering,
stutter that
trips from bitterness’
coated,
numb lips-

Memory is free,
but it seems the
free package can
distort or cut out
some of the picture
(photo shop, if you will;
filter it!)

Still, inconsistencies,
peculiarities give me
flutterbyes.

These yawning yearnings
stoke a quest,
pawing through so much
cubic zirconia,
shuffling fresh-inked
papyrus
strange paper fans
on the floor.

Eyes pierce holes in
the blaring screen,
no fingerprints
for names,
photos, times,
some faces-

anatomy of blue
shadows
elusive.

Stab your goad
in my fatigue,
Lord, let these chips
lay out just so-
a prayer shifts all in
it’s time-

Until the central
click, way quieter
than expected,
an epiphany-
and the balances,
connections
gently form the answer.

Double Meaning

I made those eggs this morning,
The way he liked, with cheese-
and just a dash of pepper,
(gave me a little sneeze.)

I know I heard him shuffle,
to close the bathroom door,
And do his morning wakeup,
Turned on shower to pour.

He stumbled, half awake,
with his music blaring loud
Heard bristles as he brushed
his teeth,
Sang his songs so proud.

He appeared in the kitchen, and I smiled, caught his eye-
Then it happened, when he sat down,
He let escape a sigh.

A damper hit my spirit,
I was so distressed
In my eyes I fought my tears,
The opinion he expressed.

I over cooked? I undecooked?
Over seasoned bread?
Or maybe he’s not in the mood
wanted cereal instead.

I said sorry for the breakfast,
but really now, I tried-
It couldn’t be all that bad
Good mood had quickly died.

I was the worst cook in history,
Oh what could I do?
Remembered all my meats were leathery,
Stronger than a shoe.

He stared at me so puzzled,
Looking mystified-
then finally said, quietly,
Some sighs are just a sigh.

No Looking Back

Hand to the plow,
steel to the dirt
chain to my ankle
past time and hurt.

Stagger, drag forward,
eyes over a shoulder-
meditate on this weight,
unforgiveness the boulder.

Help me move forward,
with eyes fixed on you-
follow your lead
on this field that is new.

(Luke 9:62-Jesus replied, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”)

Set Me Up

When I try to stand,
the near distance I can see,
approaching warrior shadows
to fan dark over me.

They know only anger,
and that their time is short-
to sway others to their side,
they strike fear or court.

Seduce the unstable,
and me with wobbling feet,
Father lift me, hold me now-
to strengthen as we meet.

Please set me on the foundations,
since time began don’t fall-
plant in my heart a certain faith
so on you I steady call.

Spiritual Baby

Jumping flame,
my soul was bought;
joy and peace
my spirit caught.

I’d walked this dark
so many years-
so cold and blind
God heard my tears.

He promised me
forever home-
with diamond springs,
and streets of gold.

Walk this path,
and hold His hand,
cry out for milk,
in wild lands.

(1 Peter 2:2 NIV -Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good).

Your Complexity

This thick-knit
web,
corners pinned by
intellect and
self-deception-
mask of genius
firmly in place.

In courage,
now use
heart speak-
prune back your flowery
artifice,
your thorns.

Broken Bones

Metallic rejection
infused the tongue.
Betrayal and desolation
ran down His face,
blood and tears;
broke His heart,
but not a single bone.

(NIV Psalm 34:20- he protects all his bones, not one of them will be broken.)