Gliding along the currents of air,
I’m lifted by the light that shines on me.
Love permeates my being,
Like a spear piercing my side.
The nails are hammered through
My ragged wrists. I cry out,
My God, my God, why?
Have you forsaken me?
The dusk descends and they lower
My cross, loosen my body
And carry me to my tomb.
I stand on a mountaintop.
Throw yourself down!
God’s angels will save you.
Turn these stones into bread.
You are hungry. Go ahead.
Freedom! I am set free by God’s hand.
Risen at last and the tombstone
Is rolled away.
Flying in circles,
For the barren ground.
Screaming for my god
To save me today.
If only have mercy,
A bit of grace.
I see the red flags
My mind tends to flee.
Can you see the remnant
Of my failing try?
Can you see me fall
From up on high?
I’m headed down
To the barren ground,
To dig me a hole
And never come out.
How I weep.
Lift my spirit
With your Spirit,
Living God of the ages.
I will trust your gentle hand.
I will hope for the promised land.
You will save me,
Hold me, keep me.
You are always faithful.
Miles of smiles cramp my style.
I sing because I’m drunk, I say.
Nothing to worry about.
The same old message, coming clean.
The same old, same old everything.
Can you tell I’d rather be there?
Can you see the when and the where?
I care about her much,
All her loved ones and such.
I am just not in synch.
I’m trailing badly. That’s what I think.
If you’ve got a bit of luck,
You can help me get unstuck.
If you think that there is hope
I’ll be gliding down a slope.
I will trust the good God’s keeping.
You won’t catch me if I’m weeping.
I’ll make sure there is a gift.
It’s such a thrill. My face will lift.
We’ll provide a settlement.
Would you like a candy spearmint?
Little trigger happy elf,
Sauntering down the road,
Can you tell me
What life is all about?
Pretty dream girl,
Can you tell me of
Sad stories, but true,
Scars to sympathize with you?
Your Daddy’s knee,
Can you tell me
What you will see
In this great big world,
We all have stories
That we can tell.
We all know mysteries
That we can share.
We know things,
What is true for you,
May be true for me, too.
But, then again,
That is another truth
One day I joined up with some ultra religious
types like myself to join a demonstration in
hopes of “glorifying God” and “witnessing to some
sinners”. The pastors signs said “God is Love.”
” Most of our signs said “Abortion Kills”. It was
these signs, along with our very self-righteous
presence that brought upon the angry looks,
shouts and screams, and vicious insults from the
members of the pro-choice parade to which we
were protesting. I held up my sign because i
believed that abortion was wrong, but I was
watching and listening to the message beimg
given by the other side. They were more
passionate, more painful, more desperate. I
walked away from that protest a changed man.
I still felt strongly about the right-to-life, but my
lot lay with those suffering women. I would go on
to refer to myself as “pro-choice”, and those are
fightin’ words in the Bible Belt.
Tuesday Tryouts: Epiphany Poems
Tricks lick ticks from the tongue.
Reaching slowly for a gun.
Running swiftly for your son.
He won’t help you now.
Pray. Pray to the God of the Heavens,
That He will have mercy on your wretched,
Squeamish soul as you crawl through the
Dirt, hoping for one last breath.
Death comes to us all. Beneath our hopes
And dreams, denials and delusions, we all
Know it. Death whispers our name as we
Get ready for work, as we drive to work,
As we forget out troubles in our daily routine,
As we come home to our spouse and children,
As we lay our heads on the pillow and fade off
To sleep. Death watches us breathe. Death
Hears our yearnings, our curses, our sighs.
Death is our constant companion from “the
cradle to the grave”. Death waits.
It is frustrating when other people expect one to act a certain way based on things such as clothes, job position, education, family background or religion. These things do do not determine a person’s
actions or provide a necessary clue to them. People can purchase and achieve despite their morals or personality. Families should be an easy
one to disregard. You are born into a family against your will. From puberty, you make choices based on your individuality.
What other family members do has nothing to do with you, and is not a
reflection of you. Although religion is usually passed on in families, most religions have a period of trial where the individual makes his or her own choice as to whether that religion is right for him or her. After that, it becomes their religion. But they do not choose all the
other people in their religion or all the other deeds that people of their
religion have done. One should not assume that just because one or even most people of a certain religion do things, every person of that particular religion, denomination or belief will do the same thing. Categorizing and classifying is a survival instinct that is good to use in certain circumstances, such as when one senses physical danger (there must be more evidence than the color of a person’s skin or the language that they speak, for instance), one is shopping in a market, or doing daily tasks that are required by one’s employment. But we tend to
error in a big way when we us these calculations in a social situation. We exclude and judge people based on the littlest things and we put up walls or make expectations towards others because of the same things. It is more peaceful, loving and just to accept people as they are and not expect them to perform in any way based on any personal characteristics or interests. It is better not to put them in a box.
We all drove from different states,
To see, to see…
We didn’t know what we were
Going to see when we got to the hospital.
We knew you had been in a car accident:
At least two broken ribs and possible pneumonia;
We called on the cell phone on our way out of town
Just like we always do, but we caught Bonnie listening
To the nurse say you had pneumonia. They hung up,
And Jackie lost it. Grief set in. Fear set in. Doubt set in.
We talked about what would happen if you died.
What where our responsibilities? The kind of stuff
You never want to think about until it’s too late.
It was a long drive. Not distance, but emotional.
Jackie was miserable. She didn’t know if this was
She started thinking back about the good times;
no more of that. And the horse you had adopted from
the animal shelter, Jackie named him Nugget. Should
we take him, and how? We had already talked about
the aged parrots—they would go with us, too.
We’d need a moving van for all this stuff, but whatever.
Then we got there. You were helpless, drugged out on
Painkiller. Always asleep or on the verge of sleep until
they stopped the drugs. You started talking out of your
Some glimpses of experience, people, but not able to put it all
Together. You could never figure out where you
were. “At the old house”, you’d say, or “the house on Weoka Road”.
Never “hospital” or Baptist East Medical Center.
But each day, with plenty of prayers, in baby steps, you made progress.
With Bonnie, who had never left your side since the accident, never left
The hospital for anything, taking care of every little need of yours. With
Family and friends coming to see you, praying for you, even back in Florida, New York, and California, they were praying.
And the very next day, your mind starts coming back, and you sit in a chair, your first time out of bed. You have gone back and forth with pneumonia, but the staff have been on top of it, doing tests, moving you around, giving you oxygen.
And then you do the unthinkable. You walk down the hall.
You are home now because many others were strong when you could not be strong for yourself. And God was strong for us all.