Tag Archives: Hope

Strike Anywhere

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.


A History of Brokenness

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.


Oh Father,

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


My King

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.


Hello, Again

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.


Repent

What great evil is this?
I’ve contrived in my heart
Against my One Redeemer
Who scattered my slavers apart,
And tore open my path
So that I may depart

Not alone, but step by step
Tucked inside his wondrous care
Who shakes the earth with fear and awe,
Of whom the power of every age beware,
Yet He protects, as promised,
As He leads my soul from here to there.

I am a grumbling slave,
Who cannot compare to His majesty,
Who cannot deserve His intercessory,
Who offers him no loyalty,
But tastes and protests His blessed grace
With a broken tongue of blasphemy.

The call to hope, the mandate,
Which my stubborn heart resists
With accusatory fears aplenty
Under which my faith desists
Is no less than honestly acknowledging
Who He Is.


From Before the Foundation

Curtains billowing in the breeze
Like a woman’s cotton dress
Frolicking around her knees;
Currents carried on a cool caress

To soothe the heat of day.

Green life emerging from its death,
The winter-buried clumps of sod;
Decay and rot, smothered breath,
Renewed again by the hand of God,

Working through His appointed seasons.