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.
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.
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!
I’ve succumbed to this infirmity,
Like spiritual leprosy,
Slipping beneath the pallor,
Aching in my joints:
It only hurts where I bend.
And I’m numb again,
My nerve-endings fall mute
But I have called to You
And You are willing.
I hold my breath.
Still on my bed, like stone death
And my fears crush my feet,
Clinging like gasoline and smoke
Paralyzed under the weight
Tormented by what I can’t escape
And I can’t get up, get away,
I can’t crawl to You,
But You will come; You will speak.
Tossed in feverish apparitions,
Bound by my inhibitions
Fueled with burning skin
And thought and imagination,
What is true, objective reality,
And what is birthed inside me
In the flame and misery
Of these spiritual infirmities?
But I believe You’re able:
Touch these hands
Set this fever to flee
So I can stand, so I can see
So I can serve Yours as You’ve saved me.
8
This under-the-bushel life:
This hush-or-you’ll be seen,
Silent in the strife,
Lucid in the dream,
Choking-out-the-light life
When I should let it burn.
This habit I’ve worn,
These lies I’ve swallowed
Hiding what’s torn,
Filling what’s hollowed
By grief or scorn
With whatever can’t burn,
I keep the wick trimmed
Waiting for an invitation,
But when beckoned, I dim
In reckless hesitation
And sin
Because the light burns
But these dark nights
Call my name
And if light gives sight,
Bring on the flame
It’s time to ignite
My resistance and my purpose
To see what burns,
And what remains.
She weeps offscreen,
Years of bruises thrive
Breaking open unseen
And she’s so strong to survive
Her brokenness.
I smile a hollow smile,
But the lantern is black
I embrace what I revile
And can never take back
My brokenness.
We survived the rocky womb
Dashed to pieces, but breathing
Hoping for a chance to bloom
Before we finished bleeding out
Our brokenness.
And we can’t stay in the lines
So we suffer the scold
For breaking the confines,
For not doing as we’re told,
For not staying broken.
We’re easy to clasp,
But impossible to keep
Because no one has surpassed
The temptation to reap
Where we’ve been broken.
Love doesn’t plunder the cleft
To feed base appetites,
And I’ve only learned this is theft
From the God who weeps at the sight
Of our brokenness.
A God who swears to fashion it for our good,
To make it better than intact
Who entered our misery and withstood
The same bitter attacks
To be broken for us.
Slowly making all things well,
But this process stings,
So we wait for the healing
Only He can bring:
Our Wounded Healer.
I silenced myself
I shut up my mouth, my pen,
Because of the sorrow in my soul
I feared the sin in my heart
I stopped proclaiming
You freed me to speak
The stagnant pool of death
The bitterness of my bones
Rotting my flesh from inside
But You have brought my fear to point
You have goaded me to fear You,
Healing my decaying flesh
With obedience in humility
Bringing refreshment to my bones
And I honor You
With this body of death
That You alone make alive
I lean on You to loose my tongue
To praises as You guide me
My King Eternal
You are no respecter of persons.
You do not gaze uncouth
At heaps of hoarded wealth,
Nor crave to devour tender youth.
In You there is no shadow of turning.
You do not rise to set
As we frantically orbit your constancy
Spinning our dizzy, dancing minuet
And some of us fall broken,
Restless though we’re lame,
But You raise up the conquered,
And lend the indigent your name.
You exalt the humbled,
And Your heart stands for the poor
So they will stand inside Your grace,
Singing Your song forevermore.
It’s time to reopen
Metered communication
The celebration
Of the mystery of language
And enduring relationship,
Beyond numbing paralysis
Or faithlessness.
It’s time to heap coal
Into the faith,
To fill this space
With the heat waves of hope
Draped in robes of grace
Unearned, but unwasted
On the sole basis
Of His interventions.
How tremulous are the times,
These smooth faced crimes
We cultivate as pets
Feeding crumbled regrets
Until our hands are stained bare
Our ignorance declares
Our bloodthirsty guilt.
We are born to wilt,
Screaming wild from the womb
Against our descent to the tomb
Fascinated with all that lies beneath,
Sheep with carnivorous teeth
Tearing at the soft flesh
The crave and the thirst enmesh
And each entanglement, syrup sweet
And each digestion, a mortal defeat.
On our mounds of filth, we stand
Making worship, inherently hand in hand,
An abstraction we practice alone
Bowing at our own thrones
Bowing, but never to sit
Playing the king, but unfit
To reign.
You reign
Holy and blameless
Ever shameless
Even against our mess,
This howling failure to confess
And repent, and consent to life.
Taking the enemy for wife
Restoring order to the disjointed
Renewing Your anointed
Who were the worst of the lot.
viewingcamelot 