Tag Archives: God

Well Wandered

If I’d packed my bags then
During those first steps into the rain
How heavy-laden I might have been
To hold anything but love and pain
In these two, fragile hands

Only capable of carrying
What fits inside a coffin, or a womb,
A thing to bear, or to bury
One to produce- one to consume-
On either side of standing.

All those years, the quiet dignity
Growing in adverse conditions
Our roving anonymity
Void of live ammunition-
Defenseless but for invisibility

My identity I had only sworn
To deceased associations
I wandered, well-worn
With You as my nation;
My allegiance pledged in motility.

And my Nation wanders still
To the roadless places,
The empty hands, unfilled
But heavy with the graces
Carried to the last generation:

Shall I again pledge allegiance
To my well-wandered nation?


Smallest Seed

Curled in comfortless covers
Echoes of fracture imbued my frangible state
But I trembled to You
You delivered my fate
Into kindnesses untold

Take back the foolish words
Like wiping the tear that cannot fall
But evaporates into a new substance
And You wiped them all
Did You keep them?

How I desired family, and now
What a tremendous tree
Into which You’ve grafted
The tiny acorn of me
You as my root.

We wear our brokenness
Scars exposed, unheard-
Our sin leads the conversation
But doesn’t say the final word
You do.

I don’t see how someone so small
Fractured as I have been
Could have the audacity to
Stand before the men
Who make the world move.

How could the weakest member
Born from broken community
Reach through these last ages
Bringing grateful unity
To people better than I am

But what a gift to give!
Those growing new within Your tree
Could avoid the comfortless covers
Of our disunity
And feel the forever warmth

Adoption brings.


I Can’t

My whispers collect here.
Have I been in the cold
Wandering all these years?
Hope is the old man
Singing through his tears
To the child in my soul

I can’t, but I know
God can.

Caught between the crashing waves
My desires wash out to sea
Slipped between fingers that could not save
I drop to my knees in sand.
At least the child was brave;
What is left to make of me?

I can’t, but I believe
God can.


Exuberant Agony

I sing to You
Though sweat may roll across my brow
Pain dancing along me in waves
No cure for now
But I have already been saved
In my helplessness, and in my helplessness
You’ll see me through

And what is a little turmoil against eternity?

I sing to You
In withered state,
Onlookers guessing at my loss
Perhaps a well-earned fate
But I have always thrown this on the cross
Regardless of who may accuse;

Even when I accuse, You defend with authority.

I sing to You
Not to appease, nor to procure
Some relief or resolution
But because Your worth is sure,
Incapable of any iota of diminution.
How unworthy am I to be pursued,

Yet You overtook me with Your grace.

Even if these were my last breaths
You are worthy of every song I have left
And eternally more.


Knock Knock

Here is what I know:
There was a judge, an infraction,
And a widow who would not let go
Or succumb to distraction.

Here is what I know:
Jacob took hold, wrestling,
And would not let go
”Until” he said, “You bless me.”

Here is what I know:
You’ve told us to pray,
And I refuse to let go
Until You have Your way

In this heart,
In this family,
In Your house,
In this city,
And beyond.


Doubting Me

Ruminating
On the substance of man
The intangibles of hope, and faith,
That fuel and fan
Our brief, burning existence.

Striving and dying
In the same breaths
That framed the common lives,
Ambitions, and inevitable deaths
Of heroes and villains.

And without scales
To weigh this substance,
To ascertain its purpose, or value,
It’s just wandering circumstance
And wishful thinking.

Religion,
Man’s answer to man’s dilemma,
Is more striving at dying,
Temporary solutions or agendas,
Without a Creator.

And I’m thinking of witnesses,
And historical accounts,
The dependency of science,
And it all amounts
To the idea of God.

How easily I doubt,
And how often I look
To the Author of life,
Of time, of the Great Book
That weighs these intangibles,

And makes sense of circumstance.


Sparrows and Sorrows

We toiled at the crossing,
Long days ere we deployed
With frantic errands fit between,
But our work became our joy
Preparing to cross the bar,
To meet our fellow brothers
Co-heirs adopted by our Father,
Born from different mothers.
Embarking with meager belongings,
But carrying hearts full brimmed
We eagerly journeyed through
A stranger night, soft dimmed,
Barely closed eyes opening
Onto a day born new
All the wonder of our hope
Painting a lovely view.

I cannot know, looking back,
What caused the quiet schism
Was it cultural habits of expression,
Stiff-lipped stoicism,
Prejudice or snobbery,
Or some other slight assumed
Caused by some prior phantom
Also born from my mother’s womb.
Their call extending to every nation,
But touched with contempt for mine
As the bonds of brotherhood dissolved,
So also our grander design,
And our love evaporated
On the cold and distant shore,
And our full hearts were emptied,
And our value full ignored.

So I call on you, our father,
Who gives life unto the dead,
And you love your varied children,
To the very hairs upon our head
Mend the boats we sank,
And purge our dark intentions
Teach us to love beyond our faults,
Our prejudice and apprehension.
Our value solely found in you;
We are lovable because you’ve loved
And all that’s worthy in any flesh
Is given it from above

And how I know you care for them,
And how you care for me,
But oh the depth of salty tears
Filling this expanse of sea!