These walls
are onion
thin, translucent,
we come
early morning
to shed
all we've
gathered over
the week,
to leave
it here
with each
layer peeled,
tears, with
each layer
peeled, more
tears
we find
there is
no end,
no middle
inside,
outside,
every
creature
peers in
at us,
nods to
scripture,
coos
to hymn
they place
offerings of
nut, twig,
nest-string
and seed
on sidewalks'
edge for
us
if you
listen closely
during silent
prayer you
can hear
them, if
you watch
carefully on
your walk
home, you
can see
their gifts
Monday, May 3, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Waiting, Worship
For 2 May 2010 PCM Church Service “Poetry Anthem”
The familiar scene: the upper room, sparsely furnished,
almost always an allegory, a lesson; always
a white dove.
Kneeling on solemn knees of uncertainty
the disciples huddling in prayers, some unspoken,
wondering about the Helper.
But we were told of the aftermath,
those great signs and miracles.
No one mentions the waiting, the doubts,
the anxiety like sitting on bed of nails.
The mighty whirlwind Spirit
came in a visitation to the faithful
who gathered that day
with one accord.
Professionals who left their boats,
free to choose between catching fish
or men, how to follow Jesus who ascended
leaving them, to be satisfied
with only a vision,
those fifty days.
Aren’t there visitations of
one sort or another, in many lives?
Surprise rains in times of droughts –
some clouds unwilling
portend difficult grey storms;
others falling on glad fields
ready for harvest.
Often, the decision on where to be
standing between one chasm
of darkness and light,
the forked path to
persist or abandon.
Mundane lives carry on
casting and pulling
one net after another.
God does not rebuke them
but the invitation to walk on the sea
disappears.
Who would have believed
when the fiery tongues fell on each disciple
they too brought a call to apostleship?
Of stoning, crucifixion, exile, shipwreck,
imprisonment, rejection, and heartache.
Yet, each man remembers
that moment they were filled with new wine,
one vision and many divine languages
that would pierce the heart and soul.
Yes, despite our weakness
God visits unexpectedly
during our journey into dark valleys,
when we praise and
worship
by faith and not by sight.
The familiar scene: the upper room, sparsely furnished,
almost always an allegory, a lesson; always
a white dove.
Kneeling on solemn knees of uncertainty
the disciples huddling in prayers, some unspoken,
wondering about the Helper.
But we were told of the aftermath,
those great signs and miracles.
No one mentions the waiting, the doubts,
the anxiety like sitting on bed of nails.
The mighty whirlwind Spirit
came in a visitation to the faithful
who gathered that day
with one accord.
Professionals who left their boats,
free to choose between catching fish
or men, how to follow Jesus who ascended
leaving them, to be satisfied
with only a vision,
those fifty days.
Aren’t there visitations of
one sort or another, in many lives?
Surprise rains in times of droughts –
some clouds unwilling
portend difficult grey storms;
others falling on glad fields
ready for harvest.
Often, the decision on where to be
standing between one chasm
of darkness and light,
the forked path to
persist or abandon.
Mundane lives carry on
casting and pulling
one net after another.
God does not rebuke them
but the invitation to walk on the sea
disappears.
Who would have believed
when the fiery tongues fell on each disciple
they too brought a call to apostleship?
Of stoning, crucifixion, exile, shipwreck,
imprisonment, rejection, and heartache.
Yet, each man remembers
that moment they were filled with new wine,
one vision and many divine languages
that would pierce the heart and soul.
Yes, despite our weakness
God visits unexpectedly
during our journey into dark valleys,
when we praise and
worship
by faith and not by sight.
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