viewingcamelot

I took a winding trip
To see a friend of late
But in my absence, the ivy climbed
Overgrowing the garden gate
I turned to cross the meadow back
An upward glance, the sudden sight
Of a tall lighthouse on the far side
Radiating light.

I knew it wasn’t my place to tread
On private property, nor stand and stare,
But I felt a quiet gravity
Pulling me from here to there.
Too old to take the gambol
I was as close as I could ever be,
My path rambles in opposite directions
But when I close my eyes, all I see:

The unexpected lighthouse smiling back at me.

It’s odd to move
Through people’s presence
Feeling so absent
Lacking internal recognition
You’re even there
Seeing yourself
From the outside
Feeling embarrassed
You took you anywhere
Having a simple, gentle wave

Feel like your only honest communication.

What words are left to write?
Was there something else
I meant to say?

I’ve already talked too much anyway.

I wish he could be whole.
I wish he could know
Compassion and joy

To heal the little boy.

I give my dogs extra scraps,
Steady love, longer pats,
I try to toss the ball for
As long as they will bring it back

Because, in heartbreaking ways
I cannot here define,
They are my caged and singing
Canaries in the mine.

I can’t see a way
From here to there,
But it’s not on me;
I live under Your care.

I wish it weren’t,
But it is true,
I don’t know what love is,
But if it looks like anything,

It must look like You.

I love the old trees
That look like arthritic hands
Grabbing hold for dear life
In dirt, or shale, or sand
Holding up their shaking limbs
To nest the weary bird,
Or clapping to the passing breeze,
To the rhythms all four corners have heard

Old enough to remember in circles
The complexities of time,
Still full enough of life in their heartwood
To rest in peace sublime.

As I drifted into the haze
Of subconscious reality
Tucked quietly
Into the passenger seat
An ambiguous dread
Touched my gut, unsettled my head
Some impression unsaid
Of waking up with the dead.

But through static, I could hear
The car radio suddenly come in clear
With a forgotten balm for a familiar fear
From a movie, it said,
Hey, Kid!
You’re gonna live!

And when this is over,
We are going to celebrate.

I am safe.
My God is great,

And He is doing something.

“Hey, kid. Kid, listen to me. You’re going to live. You got it? You are going to survive. And when you get out of here, we’re gonna celebrate.”
Jack Buck – Soul on Fire

Museums fallen into disuse
Become mausoleums
Webbed and faded, shadow-tossed,
Abandoned catacombs
The dry and dusty bones
Of lives lost
Down the open throat of time.

Thank You
Because Your gifts are free.
They’re about Your generosity;
They aren’t wages to me

The wage I earned was death,
But I believe
You drank that cup
So I can leave

The grave behind

Lift me

From the grave below,
To Your grace above.
Show me how to live
In that kind of love.

These days grow dimmer.
My hope slips into ether,
But by Your grace
I am still a believer;

I believe You
And Your promises.

Don’t let me fail.
Don’t let me fall
Under the wheels of evil;

Don’t let me be lost.