A tender age, we met: a chance encounter
The impassioned, foolish child
Admiring nameless stanzas,
Metaphors, and syntax run wild.
Sudden fingers of sunlight,
Blinding gold through ancient trees,
Extending delight to me in verses-
Complex, reticulated leaves
And the tectonic plates of my existence
Shifting, suddenly shifting,
Steadied my continents of passion,
Ceasing their aimless drifting.
A treasure in a field, a secret thing of excellence-
Evidence God’s intentions
Bring order to our accidents, and
Beauty beyond our comprehension
As the first eyes to fall on the Grand Canyon
The world is the world unchanged,
And then a meter closer
It will never be the same;
With fumbling fingers and twisted tongue,
I stumbled on unknown eloquence,
And the world is the world and the world
has been waltzing ever since.
Monthly Archives: September 2018
Madame Poetry
Leap of Faith
If wishing for something
could make it true,
what a horror in which we’d abide
Yet I yearn for You
and the Kingdom that can’t divide.
Most wretched am I,
among all men
if You aren’t who You are.
Here I pursue these disciplines,
but my hope is fixed afar.
My resolve and my delight
nailed to the sticking point
of Your blood-stained cross
The wood you worked anointed
by the profoundest, grievous loss
and my redemption.
Every iota of who I’ve been or will be
is leaning on who You are now
How sorrowful I’d be, how silly,
if You fell through somehow
but You haven’t yet.
When I travail, when I ache,
when the brokenness of man,
and the rebellion, shake me
You take my hand, You stand
How blessed am I
above all mankind,
that You lead me into the vast unknown
You whisper ideas beyond my mind,
ways above my own,
You elevate me,
and You expose my sin
Dirty veils that hide my face,
until You clean, You defend,
and wrap me again in Your grace
and Your love,
tangible as a hen’s wings
stretched over her offspring
Solid as concrete
under my foolish, and sometimes faithful feet.
Night Moves
I curled up to rest in confidence,
In a feeling of accomplishment
A day where everyone excelled-
My insecurities quelled
But the night crept in
Indelicately stepped in
Scratching where I slept
With terror, in a tragic overstep
And it moved me to waking,
To trembling, to quaking,
To mistaking what’s proved
With what the night moves.
Grace Upon Grace
So many thanks are due:
He was drunk, a little cruel,
I poured my heart out to You-
Two days later he was through
Waking up beyond the brink,
Beyond what I could ask or think,
Pouring endless streams of drink
Unsolicited, in the kitchen sink
And telling me he’s through.
Thank You.
Then the day sobriety
Painted in dark antipathy
Lesser aspects of his epiphany-
All points converged against me
And I drove out to meet with Yours.
Even as I prepared their open door,
The good was caught in a downpour
And I prayed You’d move as before
When You parted the Red Sea.
And You did-
Thank You.
Then, tired and alone,
I returned to my home,
To a mood unknown,
I repented in groans
And I prayed for peace.
I stepped inside, hung up my keys,
And he wrapped his arms around me
A moment of masterpiece,
Two woven; two atoned-
Thank You.
Dear God,
She writes, she dreams,
In dark carnival scenes
Mad-toothed barkers, twisted mirrors,
Remorseless, deathless terrors
In suspended animation-
I shared in her damnation:
It’s all true, in sideways shards
Where truth leaves truth marred
Where mothers’ lips fuel hearses;
Where mothers’ tongues drip curses
And hunger puts its fist in baby-bellies
And the cold pulls warriors to felled knees,
And bruises, like tribal tattoos, shine
Flaunting hell in knuckle-designs
Barkers estimating height, and weight,
And every flaw, sin, or mistake
Stench and stale smothering
Tender skin succumbed to stings
Of ruthless consumption and defacement:
Run-down rides in broken-down basements.
And she writes with teeth still piercing skin,
Like goodness died, and carnies win,
And I need You to be You again-
The unchangeable God: the same
Yesterday, today, and always.
The Thief
Did he steal heaven too?
Hanging there, despised,
Hearing words his equal spewed,
His wounded gut felt the lies-
Fear God! Is it not clear
Who owes, and who gives?
Death is raging ever nearer;
Despair is wrenching as he lives
But he has seen a glimpse,
And hopes enough to beg-
His hobbled life limps
To the end of broken legs,
And he cries out, “Remember,”
In one desperate act of faith,
“Remember me!” as slumber
Slices through his days
And in the closed fist
And throes of agony,
Hanging by the wrist:
He met the Prince of Peace
How his heaviest, darkest hour
Must have also been his brightest.
In the suffering grip of evil powers,
He finds his weightless rest
The Light overcomes the darkness:
His worst hour becomes his best.
The Issue
I take issue
With nights like these,
Hard to please,
But even if it’s about me,
It’s not about me.
It’s all so new,
And hewn out rough
When he grows gruff
I wonder if this life’s enough,
Will I be enough?
viewingcamelot 