purple sky darkens as chaos threatens to fall upon the earth
so I cry save us save us
oh Jesus save us and grant us
thy second birth
so witness the account that history has given
and consider the potentiality
of an intrusion from the heavens
what some today name a miracle
and if it is possible that we know not all things
can you believe that perhaps just maybe
there was a descent from heaven
and that with the hovering of the divine
Jesus came
and in humility proclaimed
that he was the last and first
and testified of glories beyond our ken
so that even as he prayed to heaven’s father
we knew something was different about this man
and perhaps this was an instance
of heaven reaching down to remake and heal
for God knows we need it
and even now we plead it
that God give us a second chance
and he says I have
believe in the Son of Man
and eternal life I’ll grant
forever and forever
dare you chance?
this is life I say to myself
to know the God who knows me more
than I know myself now or ever will
and so of course I cast myself upon this shore
and dance upon this lawn and sing once more
for hark my friends there is none other
and naught better
than the true rest and bliss
that comes from resting your eyes upon
the very face of God
and knowing you are found within
the meeting of humanity with the divine
for in Christ our life may now be hid
oh brother oh sister
taste and see
rest in Him.
Tag: poetry
Intermission
she bends over the little secretary desk
and scribbles with all her might
outside the thunder bugles triumphantly
but Emma doesn’t fear the night
for all the raging of the cosmos
only fuels the maelstrom in her heart
and she bleeds messy prose onto the paper
witness this faltering house of cards
but it’s ok she says to herself
for surely soon this candle will go out
and on my pillow i’ll lie down and
lie awake and for hours muse on art
and the way the wooden crosspiece
struck my eye as the autumn light
fell just so upon that old red barn
i remember that afternoon i wrote
a poem upon my scratchpad as i
leaned against that tree and breathed
deep of pine and felt the comfort
of the old withered bark against my back
cozy in my sweatshirt and my eyes alive
with all that was on the page unturned
now alas i’ve seen too much and i fear
that perhaps all my best lines are burnt
but at least i can’t say i haven’t written
even if the pages are all fluttering
in the wind
and who knows what backstreet alley
they’ll end up in
alas my soul comfort yourself with what you know
and rest in those old promises
i have nothing else
Visions
It was a long time ago it seems that we walked this forest path. I breathed deep of pine and beech and of an impulse I take your hand. The air is quiet in the way you only get when you’re far off from any sounds of engines or whirring gears though now and again I hear a bird pipe up and say hello hello my friend I’m here! And the air is quiet but it’s also heavy with the air of anticipation that a long awaited moment brings. This of course is something I bring into the forest and so is not native to this land. I turn and look at you and note how still your face is as you simply soak in the moment of a quiet stroll through this fairy realm. It does indeed seem like one of the small woods-folk could be around the next bend and we could have a chat, if only we had the eyes to see of course. But do we? I don’t bring this thread to the surface and chase it down for fear of diverting us from this melody of life. Do you hear the music, my friend? Do you? With that breaking of the silence, you turn to me and smile. This wood is delightful you say, truly I can’t believe we’re here walking where once legends dwelt. And for this moment I’ve waited ever so long, to be here with you, while overhead towers the trees we love. Is it enough, this wood?
Not long ago was it that we sat on the edge of a cliffside and gently tended that fire of roses. We talk of this and that upon this cliff looking out over the seas that leap and shout. But in the stark grey beauty of the ocean there is a moment that I quiver. And I sing now oh be still my heart! From where comes the song that was promised for I wait to hear the long lost melody. You say softly that the song was written on that piece of parchment. And I reply that somehow I knew it was meant for me. I shiver as I think that soon my lips shall sing these words. We both lean closer to the cliffside and let our bodies rejoice in this sea spray. My eyes sparkle with anticipation as I turn to you and say – shall we sit upon the edge here and let our feet dangle and talk of all the tales that we’ve not yet told? You giggle and stir the fire casually and mutter low – I have so many things to tell you. I never want to let you go. As we breathe deep of fire and roses and the song leaps unbidden to our lips we look to each other as blue meets brown and wonder – how did it come to this? This fire, is it enough?
Soon will come the moment when we’re standing upon the beach and gazing off into the west. Do you see the pinks and purples and oranges of the sky and wonder what they all mean? Is there a deeper significance to this beauty or is it just some grand coincidence? I laugh and squeeze your hand a little tighter and you turn to me and radiantly smile. There is more to this than the world that was promised. For truly this world is not enough. I know I tell you, I know. But surely we can bring a little meaning into the world if we in our hearts summon deep the joy and pains we have written thus far. But are we the originators of this meaning or are we merely echoing a long told tale? Echoes and symmetry I sigh. I know, I know. Just as this sunset plucks a chord in our hearts and we tremble knowing that we are made for more. Do you hear the music now you ask me. I do I reply. Oh surely I do. But still something is missing. Or someone.
These rhymes that fill my mind have not stopped. My love do you remember that day we walked in that wood? I do of course. That was the day my heart began to quicken as I began to believe there was more to this world than our eyes could see. But do you remember that grey twilight upon which we sat at that fire and burned bouquets of roses as we told each other our hopes and dreams? I can only reply you know I do. That was the day I knew we were on a road that we could not leave. Then you know that we only wait one thing. Our lives have spiraled around the core of truth that can be no other than what is now before us as we see the sun set before our eyes. Where is the one that was promised? We have been given much but still where is the well-laden table, where is the bread and wine? We are missing the one that was promised, the one that takes away the sin of the world. But remember you say your eyes now beginning to glow with inner fire, that one is provided by the one for whom our soul longs. In fact, you say now in a hushed and reverent manner, that one is come into the world and provided himself for himself for us that might dwell with him in the most full and rich communion that could ever be imagined in this world. Imagine that. Behold the lamb.
I take up the vision and fiercely pen all these things my mind have seen. In the darkening of the night, I feel your hand tighten upon my shoulder as we gaze up at the falling stars. And as light flashes from east to west, I whisper to you do you remember what joy is ours as we look forward to taking cups and toasting at that table? Oh my heart quivers. These words now ring in my head as I prepare myself for the consummation of all that’s been written. We now stand in purple twilight and gaze up at the fires of angels as we prepare to dine in heaven. The echoes of that long ago forest walk come back to me and I whisper what I heard him say and my heart rejoices that he is now near at hand
I will drape my cloak over you
I will ever draw you with my hand
I will call you by the music of my voice
I will surely bring you to my promised land
You and I stand together under the banner of redeeming love. We have no qualms about what is written for now united in sweet union are the songs of faith and hope as they look upon what descends from above. I should not say what, but who. And you know of whom I speak. His name is upon my lips as we hold hands tight and prepare for eternity where the songs will never stop and there will be no more echo for the source shall be before us in perfection of beauty and glory – that one robed in infinity and yet marked still by the suffering that he bore for those he descended to save, that in the fullness of his divinity and might still he stoops down that we might know his name. And now we tremble as we stand before him in a way and place I cannot describe for my thoughts flee far above and far beyond and before him we stand and I see his face.
Prickly Pear
Her head whirls with all that has been revealed and she feels as if perhaps
the books weren’t exactly correct in how they informed her dreams
but now she steps up the tree-lined path
and her feet start to drag as her heart
begins to tremble
for now she comes to the crux of it
indeed now in the fullness of time
that moment that has been just so defined
and her mouth dry she steps through the doorway
and click clack click clack her shoes strike the floor
until she reaches the spot that she never thought she’d see
and she can’t even kneel but instead falls to her face
and beneath the empty cross she cries out for grace
now her heart settles and despite her tears she breathes
what is this strange mystery
this God who died for me
Correspondence
Hello, dear one. I write this now from the back of the wardrobe, hoping somehow it gets to you. You may wonder at the strange paper and perhaps what pen produces ink such as this. Well those are the lesser of the questions you should be asking. Firstly – how did it come to this? Bare three days ago we parted under the oak trees ringing the far field. I left you with a promise and you left me with a kiss. Do you remember the golden light that afternoon as the sun slowly bent down to the earth? In the moment it felt momentous and it felt as if the sun knew it too. And so she curtsied to us two and bathed us with the golden light from her beaming face. And through the rays I looked and saw a rainbow forming in the corners of your eyes. For yes even with my words you could not bring yourself to lie to me that you were happy and I don’t care I said. It’s ok my love to cry. Now I walk under stranger trees and stranger skies and I wonder if we’ll ever meet again. I write this in the hopes that your eyes will brush these papers with the dark fire that blazes forth when your emotions are roused. Please my love forgive me for my tardiness. I’ll forgive you your doubts. For now for certain this has gone far beyond the little matter that we thought it was those three days ago. Or was it four? I can’t be certain anymore. Still please pray for me. I need it, oh I need it. I wish I could say I’ll be with you tomorrow and that we could picnic on the porch. I’d delight to share a few sandwiches with you and some cold iced tea and perhaps a few strawberries. Yet I can’t think on that too much. My focus is demanded here, even writing this taxes me as I let my thoughts drift to kinder climes. Pray for me my love. Always yours.
Self Examination
Cross-legged on the bed she sits
staring at the cursor that blinks in endless taunt
reminding her of all the lines she’s failed to write
and of all the momentous mementos that she’s lost
for now she forgets to look around her
when she’s sitting on the bus stop bench
yes there’s stories thick as forests in the muttering voices
but the only voices she hears now are those in her head
so what does it matter that her pen is dead
or more like it – that her notepad is white without a blemish
of messy scribbling in furious fantasy of that which used to be
so now she blinks in resignation as the tears start to fall
eyes wide open on the bed she lies
Riptide
She likes to write of the last horizon
the one that was only ever seen that once
everyone tells her she’s lying
but it’s true i was there
like the trees indrawn breath at the start of autumn
so too the breeze that day did something to my lonesome eyes
and as i thought of what it signified that the moment hung eternal
she grabbed my arm and in her eyes i saw the same thought that perhaps
God had chosen this moment of all moments to take us home
and the air caught in my throat and i felt the holy fire
and for a second we rested at the crest
until sound returned and the cry of the gull was heard
not yet my child not yet
she told me later that she knew in that moment she believed in God
for her mind in that space between the wallboards felt awe at what it knew
not in the solidity of earth or mountain or oaken forest
did she linger
but instead in the revealed promises of God made true
not many get to rest in the light of heaven
at least not in this tumultuous night
yet we all gaze off into the horizon
not many sit upon the grassy shore and count the dolphins
but remember beneath the waves how many swim
Duologue
meekly i shout meekly!
and once more she lets out a sigh
how can i suppress my fire
when you keep stoking it so well
and then you dare have the nerve
to tell me to dull my songs
you’re right of course
but all i ask is a little indulgence
for the sake of art
just pretend i’m not on the other side
for on the stage you play a part
and that character is all prim and proper
well perhaps your reading of her is
but mine is that she’s been told lies too long
and so of course in this moment she’d erupt
even if it is only in her blazing eyes
so i’ll play her as i want to
and yes this conversation may have undertones
that discomfort even you
but it’s alright we’ll forget all that
when we step off the stage and celebrate opening night
and down at the pub share a drink or two
Ripened
on the madison county line
i waited
in the deep dark depths of mid july
and off to the side at the end of the little gravel road
a dilapidated and faded barn stood
and under an old oak
where a red checked picnic blanket was spread
i waited
and that old classic paperback i read
even though i’d read it far too many times
what’s once more when it brings such joy
and upon the thought of memories of black and white
there comes a crunch of tires upon the gravel
and up the road comes the little sedan
i see her dark tousled hair whip around as she parks
and then she tumbles out and over to me sheepish smiles
there are sparkles in her eyes
what now she says shall we not recommit our love
yes i say simply and in that recommit our lives
and in that moment her eyes met mine and we stood
in the profound symmetry of frozen time
and then upon the blanket we sat and i uncorked the wine
and we raised our glasses said a toast and slowly drank
to us to future glory to that truest of all stories
there off that gravel road on the madison county line
Frayed Scarf
Sunflower dreams and slowly spun tales of oak
What can I take with me as I walk through this forest
Some say whatever is in my pocket
Some say whatever is in my head
I say only that which I craft along the way
And so I whistle the tune I heard at the show last night
And add a few nonsense words which seem to fit
The trees seem not to mind
Something Weird 