What We Are

I have heard that You are patient,
and You are kind, and You are gentle.
I hope so.
 
I suppose - if You still want me after all
this time, how could You be
anything else?
 
There are many things
I do not know. But I do know
that I am afraid.
 
Yet they tell me that
You are safe, and 
You are Shelter, and
You are Protector.
 
I hope so.
 
Even You have said, that
Your name is I AM.
Oh how I hope that You Are -
that You Are everything I am not.

To Build A Mountain

I glance at her, pensive.

Hands shoved deep in my pockets, I say

“But if I go there . . .

I don’t know anybody. And it’s flat,

what about the mountains?”

She gazes intently at her shoes as we walk

together in the sunshine.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to kick up some dust –

make your own mountains.”

She grins at me, quite pleased with her answer –

no hint of doubt in my ability

to construct such a monstrosity. Because of course

it takes no more faith to build a mountain

than to move it.

The Night…

Maybe I do not expect you to understand.

How could you fathom such suffocating blackness,

when you were raised

to gaze at the beauty

of the heavens?

To you, the night sky

is but a backdrop for the brilliance

of the stars.

But the night . . . 

The night is a black hole

which consumes me.

It devours

my waking hours, and

desecrates my dreams

while I sleep.

It is a living death,

which could not be troubled

to die in truth.

Wiser Than God

How many failures and pardons
must there be
before I declare my redemption
complete?
 
How may tsunamis and shipwrecks
shall overcome me
before I walk those shores
for which I long?
 
How many days -
Oh how long will it be -
Until I am not wiser
than God?

Amicolola Falls in Autumn, Georgia

Such a procession I have never seen!
A cry goes up, “come -  let us watch
the leaves lay down their lives
one fading spark at a time.”
 
         “What is this beauty you see -
         Is it not but the funeral
         of a multitude of leaves?”
 
“Ah, but my friend -
what is this funeral if not
a memorial bursting with joy?
Yes, a celebration of beauty -
of hope arising triumphant
from so many fallen waifs.
 
The leaves bid us farewell
with a promise that has never died.
‘Goodbye -
we shall come again!’”

demons and Divinity

I hear the demons

demand –

“who are you, little human,

that you dare think you could ever

change?”

But my dear –

they have the question twisted

all wrong.

Now it is I who ask you,

“Who do you think I am,

that I could not transform

you?

Who do you think you are,

that you could never be

so transformed?”

demons and Divinity

I hear the demons

demand –

“who are you, little human,

that you dare think you could ever

change?”

But my dear –

they have the question twisted

all wrong.

Now it is I who ask you,

“Who do you think I am,

that I could not transform

you?

Who do you think you are,

that you could never be

so transformed?”

demons and Divinity

I hear the demons 
demand
“who are you, little human, 
that you dare think you could ever 
change?” 
But my dear - 
they have the question twisted 
all wrong. 
Now it is I who ask you, 
“Who do you think I am, 
that I could not transform 
you? 
Who do you think you are, 
that you could never be 
so transformed?” 

Guard Your Peace

Guard well your peace, child
this rising fire in your heart.
And do not chain it to any supposed fortress
for such creatures are not meant to be tamed.
Watch for it, follow it,
demand its shelter, yes,
dare to defy even your own contempt
of such need as you have discovered
in your own soul!
 
The morning sunshine
holds no malice toward you, but even so . . .
have a care for your life.
It depends on Him just as desperately
now, as in yesterday’s battle.
Indeed, perhaps more so.
 
The ghosts hide from the light,
but you know not where.
So mark the sun’s rising. Fix your gaze
there and turn not away, turn not
away from your Life.
 
Guard well your peace, child,
yes, make war to remain within its borders!
There is no better land
where you may rest
your weary heart.

Harbor

O my soul never forget!
He is real and alive and
strong, more willing to help you
than your mortal mind can fathom.
When you sleep, child
do you fear for the morning
as though it will not come, or
that maybe - you will not awaken?
 
Then let your soul rest
with such assurance and more,
for you can trust Him.
Your God is well able
to guide your little ship into harbor.
Indeed, He has done this
all along.