Tag Archives: cross

Plumb

Only the Cross to the Ascension
The moment in history
All that’s in existence converged
And all death reversed

Could carry through time
And into any substance
A miraculous compound
Potent enough

To change this for me.
This perfect element I believe
You call Love, Your substance,
To acquire is too valuable to cost anything

Worth everything
That ever existed.

I can’t offer my life.
It’s mostly gone,
And I’m not enough to trade
Even here on earth.

I can’t get to You.
I’m not even sure why to try
And no one is here
To carry me.

I don’t think
I will have the capacity
To enjoy anything again.
Not with any depth.

I don’t know if this petition
Is for relief in life,
Or release from it.

Can You see an answer?

I’m asking You
Knower of All,
God Almighty
The Only One

Is there an answer for me?


Rolled Over

Unhinged again by pain, the spins
Around my ears keep me queasy,
Exhausted, broken, hyper-aware:
Loving me is never easy.
Pulsing ache and fevered throes
Cluttered breaths over shattered shards
Wracked up, wrung out, run down
I fight my own worst regards
Only one friend who writes,
Only one who values me
In the stumbling, tumbling turmoil
Of the worst that I can be-
These whispers hiss and spit
Inside my throbbing ears:
Wasted! Worthless! Naught to show
For all these tarried years.
Oh the physical weakness,
Whenever I assume
I may stand and work and run
On the thin fumes I have presumed
Were the common breaths of man.

How can I run my race
When I can barely stand?
Yet I live, and breath, and move
Inside Your pierced hand

And that’s enough for me.

.
.
.
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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.