Category Archives: Passion

Heartbeats, Footfalls, and Pounding Waves

Let the drumbeats lead us to the sea-
In cool of dark and cover of blindness,
A mighty sun lashes vulnerable skin,
Foam churns the salivated-ocean
Sticky on the swollen shores
Tongues and gums and
Saltwater evaporations
Adhere the dry bed to sky
Out we must march!
In darkness, dark
Preserves our vulnerable
Sun-crisped skin
Where cold may bite,
And ice may burn,
But the drumbeats take us!

I had a mother once-
With soft flesh and ivory teeth
Singing dark songs,
Low melodic spirituals
Sundering soul from bone
Her hidden youth
Borne of blood and water and man
And the tigers’ heard her
Moonlit dirge, her mournful croon,
Her tigers’ blood pumping
Through a woman’s veins
They desired her with tooth and talons,
Mauled flesh and appetite,
And her spiritual wanders
Dry spaces, drumless paces-

But the drumbeats bear me away!
Steps and sounds mingling
Into body chanting
Pounding the ghosts from sand
To frighten what lurks
In outer darkness, lost rings
Surrounding the drums
We pound out rhythms,
Purpose, protection, toes in sand
Beating out a road to sea
Our stretched legs limber
Sinews like fingers
Stomping in strength
Answered by weakness, silence,
Pounding again in strength-

Beyond the drums the lightning flashes
Ivory teeth and slitted eyes
And my mother’s spirit
Hungry, angry, clicking teeth
I hear it beyond the drumbeats
But sun will scorch them
Drive us both to ground
We wait till darkness only falls,
The beats put distance between
Flash of tooth and sudden violence,
Retribution for the apostasy
Of being man,
Tameless, shameless man,
Of wandering arid spaces
Until the sea may save us!


The Young Sun

The sun yawned once and rolled out young,
Full rays frolicking on green earth,
Clean air, crisp, precise,
Rollicking in the fervor of new birth.
And we were new, brash and foolish,
Reaching where we ought not,
Taking with ease the very things
We were taught not.
How weightlessly we carried
Our moments of import
Our engine of presumption
Extending over our consorts-

For now was always, and always new
The future held no portal-
Assuming the sun may never age,
And we, too, may be immortal
For bones made long and strong,
And flesh stretched firm and smooth
Could find no reason to change,
Where there is no need to improve.
We needed no fear of future
Knowing no need to mend-
How brash! How foolish the youth who believes
His delights will never end!


To Appetite, Avarice, and Apathy

Oh bitter man,
Striking earth with hoe and heel,
Does mercy burn away as dross,
Compassions cool as hardened steel?
Tiny, timid, trembling hands
Upholding immortal speculations
In fingertips of frail flesh,
Ageless treasures amid ancient desolations-
Oh coarse, consuming man!
In desecration of design
Feeding ignoble appetites,
Fatted on the sublime,
Until the basest desires
Devour all

Souls stricken with sight
Pleading with these blind
To see, to receive,
To love in kind.


City Graces

Scraping, struggling,
Past my reserves, past intact,
Indulgences of doubt
Seeping through cracks
And I put down my hand
I stepped back.

I sit on a bit of stoop,
The city street half-lit
By twilight clouds, passing cars-
Numb to cold, to life, sitting
Unable to eat, I lift a whispered prayer,
“Please… I feel so close to quitting.”

So simple, maybe just a falling tear or two,
Ensuing silence… then sounds of life pursue-
Sirens in the distance, some nearby conversations,
Footfalls and phonecalls out of view
But in earshot- the children call to me by name,
As does the neighbor passing through.

Gentle love fills my soul.
This house becomes my home:
A place my soul finds rest,
I love it best when I’m alone,
No one judges how I fail;
None resent its frail bones.

And prayers are heard,
and answered,
from my little stoop.


Under the Blacktop

When I’m with him, I feel it:
Walking blind, feigning sight
Alongside a precipice cut above
An endless abyss of night
By waters that are shallow
To everyone’s thinking
But the hidden dread and intoxication
Remembers sinking
And sinking

Sinking…

Into a torn seat
In a borrowed, busted car
That only needs to make one trip,
Never far
Just a black strip into darkness
With the cat’s eyes closing
Somewhere to end,
Or a familiar hand to offer comfort,
Or a stranger to begin again
And again

Again…

Wandering blind
In the perpetual silence that followed
The question
Wagering tomorrow to
Leverage yesterday
Waiting for reparations-
The stakes seem cheap,
When there’s nothing else to barter,
But losing the bet
Means sleeping harder,
Or forever,

And hell won’t right no wrongs.


The Faith Dynamic

I walk with wide eyes
Scrutinizing details
Minutiae in the macrocosm
Swirling activity at every scale
If I look closely enough,
No surface is solid or still-
The building blocks of life
Move about at-will
The entire teeming dynamic
Rides within a swirling sphere
Spinning in its orbit,
Which also spins and steers
Around a spinning galaxy,
That also travels alongside
Other galaxies breathing
In the vast universal tide-
Everything remains in flux,
Constant metamorphosis,
Churning, changing forces
From the dawn of genesis
But there is nothing new under the sun:
Matter can neither be
Created, nor destroyed,
Therefore everything we see

Has been churning through all organic history.

I walk with wide eyes
My breath succumbs to magnitude,
Comprehending all that is
Fully beyond my aptitude
Yet I cannot help but see
The galaxies in every soul
Opposing forces, symbiotic choices,
Exchanging properties at toll
Branded with eternity,
Touched by death and rot,
Defined by diseased perceptions
Of what we are and what we’re not.
My eyes appraising evidence equal
To either hope or else despair:
A Creator-God who bears our burdens,
Or a world in irreparable disrepair-
Hurtling through spacetime
Toward eventual extinction
Or eternal resolution:
Faith makes the distinction.
While I rely on eyes wide open
These things remain our plight,
But there’s a vision beyond vision
That sees all in time put right,

So I will walk by faith, and not by sight.


Specterlations

What, in darkness, crept
Some ancient secret nearly kept
Some decrepit harbinger
Or else, angelic messenger
Ringing like tinnitus in offkey tones
To chill my childlike bones
Blackness as cover, but not as absence,
I hovered in happenstance:
Studying the blueprints
The structure, the meter made sense
How like Horatio I stood erect, then
Whispered, shouted, shivered at specters-
Putting my ear to ground:
A universe resounded.
Swirling in vibrations
Molecular orchestrations
Humming, always humming
The fingers of primal causation strumming
Strings of intelligent design
Singing arias in divine
Force and opposing forces
Cacophonous notes breaking in
Echoing forth original sin
Every soul vibrating at a unique frequency
Every hum tinged by indecency
Matter and mass dealt deathblows
Groaning, awaiting the final cadence to grow
To impart some peace and resolution
The strain giving way to final ablution
We live in the crescendo mounting
I wander in discordance
My own tune out of ordinance
Buffeted by ceaseless voices
Existent waves in their respective courses
Rays racing since first unrolled:
Like light and sound and soul
And the stopwatch of time,
And the momentum and trajectory of mankind
Everything exists in some derivative code
Following through some massive node
Deep calculations inside the rhythm
Spacetime in diminishing algorithm
We contribute to our own satisfaction,
But every variable produces foreseen reactions
Overwhelmed, I clutch my ears and fall
Shouting at ghosts and trembling walls,
Searching for silence amongst the din
For the fallen sparrow unseen by heaven
But all is included in all eternity:
Yet none see.
None put ear to ground-
None consider the fullness of sound:

The readiness is all.

”Not a whit, we defy augury. There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now,
yet it will come—
the readiness is all.
Since no man knows aught of what he leaves, what is’t to leave betimes, let be.”

Hamlet, Shakespeare


Pride of Men

Immortal souls traveling
In decaying flesh,
Breaking us down, taking us down
To an inevitable grave
No force may save from
Final goodbyes: weak or strong
We all die
We seek the long delay
Trading moments for days,
Breaths to barter or borrow
But the pride of life
Is toil and sorrow.


My Bread

Years past, I brought my loaves
My little bits of oil and flour,
I laid them before You
In all Your wealth and power
I prayed You accept my small offering
And rejoiced to see them devoured!

I travelled far, drank the dew,
By You, I’m ever blessed
But I lent my ear to those
Proclaiming bigger to be best-
Embarrassed to bring my little loaves
To place amongst all the rest.

These last few years
I folded a little leaven in:
A dash of works, a dash of man,
Something grand to ascend
But You’ve brought me home
To my simple faith again.

I never stood amongst the mighty-
I inhabited the lonely fields,
And their armor never fit me,
Yet still I did not yield
Because I’d seen You,
And You’ve always been my shield.

I bring another little loaf-
It will never be much to see.
I pray again You accept it
A show of gratitude in humility
With joy in obedience
For Your kindness shown to me

I cannot deserve or impress,
I tremble ere I speak!
But You inhabit little helpless things
The world proclaims as weak;
And Your glory shining forth
Is all I seek.


Discipline of Grace

Endure suffering as discipline:
God is dealing with you as sons.
Hebrews 12:7

I have tasted suffering
Meted out, blow by blow,
Throngs of pains and pangs
And I know that I know

I am stronger for it.

I grew closer to Him
In what suffering I endured,
Growing inside His care,
Battered, yet secure

In His sufficiency.

He entrusted me with something
Beyond my scope
I need Him to sustain
Beyond silence or trope

In power and truth.

Falling fearful, I groveled,
I sniveled, I winced
Concerned the difficulty
Was merely recompense

For zigging if I should zag.

I forgot some key truths:
Discipline isn’t merely correction,
Punishment, or retribution-
It’s also difficult, loving direction

Equipping for the future.

And most importantly I forgot,
More than what I do,
More than what I accomplish, or fail,
More than what I put Him through-

Jesus loves me