Category: Poetry

Where Are You?

Where are you can I come there let’s come back together and sing a song of joy for all to hear I remember the good times we spent in each other’s company it was a happy time except when we would argue and fight but that is all behind us now I want to be your friend and we can talk about the craziness of life and all the crazy people in it.

We Are One

I waited for you

On top of the mountain,

But you didn’t show.

I went down

Into the valley,

But I didn’t see you there.

I sailed on the ocean,

Hoping to catch

A glimpse of you at sunrise,

But I was disappointed.

I prayed to you

To appear to me,

And I looked at my reflection

In a pool of water.

It was then that I realized–

You were always with me,

For you are a part of me.

We can never be separated,

You and I.

We are One.

In the Presence of Everything

Are you the hand

That I shake in the pew,

Or on my way out the door,

To the parking lot?

…

Are you the presence,

In the plate and cup,

Upon the altar,

That is given for me to consume?

…

Are you the dirty, scarred face,

Of an abused, homeless woman,

Begging on the street,

Around the corner from the grocery store?

…

Are you the gentle face and eager voice

Of the elderly man

Who comes to my front door,

Struggling to use an iPad to show a video?

…

Are you the pastor at the soup kitchen,

Who tells me the administrative position

I’m interviewing for requires someone

Who can shmooze with the volunteers?

…

Are you the book with all the stories

Spoken a long, long time ago,

Written a long time ago,

For people who lived a long time ago?

…

If so, I’m wondering:

What is your name? Who am I

In relation to you?

Why do you appear differently to all?

…

I’d like to pin you down,

Put your number and your address

In my contact list.

I’d like to feel you.

…

I know that’s not how you operate,

If you did, you wouldn’t be God,

Or would you?

Sometimes I wonder.

A Prayer of Brokenness

I’m torn.

The part of me that hurts,

That is angry,

That wants to rebel,

That wants to hurt others,

That wants to be in control,

Constantly whispers temptations

To my weary mind.

My heart is full of rage, fear and grief;

My soul bears lust, shame and gluttony.

I want to be released from these chains.

I want to be whole, pure, complete.

I need God to renew my spirit.

Come and bless me, Father.

Endings

Turning in and churning out,

Pushing and pulling,

Gurgling and moving.

Rainbows cast a shadow.

Clouds bring rain.

Echoes in the valley

Bring me word of your pain.

Creatures leap and run,

Their energy is inspiring.

Happy faces bounce and sing.

Today is for the reckoning.

Simple talk brings mood insane.

Closing time at the local bar and grill.

Pumpkin

Pumpkin pudding pie sharp needles in your toes prick and prod for your breakfast steal Charlie’s treats at bedtime voracious appetite close follow call your name gone in a twinkle of an eye slipped out when we weren’t looking chubskin butterball belly cry out for petting and treats honest no clue big round green eyes sharp teeth bite my nose or my hand just a nibble but those claws they puncture and scratch roll on your back and show your big belly

We the Church

Cross swinging from a chain? Sitting in church every Sunday? Giving to the church? Teaching Sunday School? What makes a Christian? As if that matters anymore. The world has written us off as elitist, racist, oppressive, unwelcoming, manipulative, money grabbing, ignorant, delusional…the list goes on. When will we realize that inside we are all the same? Mexican, Russian or African; Christian, Muslim or Jew. Or whatever. We all want to be safe, secure and part of a loving community. Maybe we need to do away with religion so we can concentrate on the spiritual. Love is the common bond for all of us.

Us and Them

Make lack meandering echoes spaghetti mice swastika rely meek deed pointy hats white robes suit and tie is this me? My race has a history of rape, murder and torture. What is left? Too many t’s go uncrossed. Too many lives get wrecked. Where is the old glory? Was it real, or was it simply a sordid, infected power, built on the backs of Africans, imprisoned, kidnapped and enslaved? What is the path ahead? When will we learn? Too much blood has been shed. Too many nightmares. Too much oppression. Too many suffering, hungry, fatherless children. Who will save them?