Perseverance

Advertisements

A Miracle

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.

The Base

Bell ring sound thing but how ding dong

Do you think I’m able to drink from the

Fountain of mirth slow table so search

Drab covers hide glad tidings minuet so

Delve into duty with one foot on the base

Closing In

Crawling under, torn asunder.

Beloved stolen, booming thunder.

Please excuse the mighty cry.

Nothing proven, when you died.

Angels gliding through the air.

I won’t suffer. I don’t care.

Vivid memories closing in.

Wasting away, growing thin.

What’s the difference if I go?

What’s the point of to and fro?

I just want a soothing moment.

I just want a second chance.

Only we can see the answer.

Only you can keep the balance.

Trial Size

Sloping down and then back up, like a speeding truck, I am searching for your love. Transubstantiate, lift then push, then go all out, a mystery solved, doubts soothed, memories calmed, nightmares called what they are. Do you dream at night? I do. I fly through the sky on my back, steering with my feet. Trial size.

Both Ways

Sharing smothered thoughts,

Restricted feelings abound.

Hesitation rules the imagination,

Hiding from the truth,

Although it tortures me.

Yearning for stability,

Some kind of consistency.

If only I could have it both ways!

Renewed

Thunder crashes,
Lightning flashes,
Mother Nature
Says hello.

In my quiet home,
I sit absolutely still,
And watch
And listen to the rain.

Funny how,
Sometimes,
Life can be so peaceful,
And yet, so full of tension.

We fight against
The coming tide
Of life as usual, that is,
Pain and struggle

To overcome
The challenges
That come before us
On a daily basis,

All the time
We seek to draw
Strength
From deep inside,

From an endless
Flowing river
Of peace
And tranquility.

And yet,
Sometimes,
That river of power
Becomes blocked

By worries,
By doubts,
By discouragement.
It is in those times

Of difficulty,
If we are wise,
We stop and watch,
And listen

To the thunder
Of holiness,
The lightning
Of sacrifice,

And the merciful
Raindrops
Of ever flowing,
Beautiful Grace.

When we do this,
Our hearts,
Our minds,
And our bodies

Become renewed
With a wonderful
Power of light
And blessing.

We can look
Our pain and struggle
In the face again,
And smile.

Renewed

Thunder crashes,
Lightning flashes,
Mother Nature
Says hello.

In my quiet home,
I sit absolutely still,
And watch
And listen to the rain.

Funny how,
Sometimes,
Life can be so peaceful,
And yet, so full of tension.

We fight against
The coming tide
Of life as usual, that is,
Pain and struggle

To overcome
The challenges
That come before us
On a daily basis,

All the time
We seek to draw
Strength
From deep inside,

From an endless
Flowing river
Of peace
And tranquility.

And yet,
Sometimes,
That river of power
Becomes blocked

By worries,
By doubts,
By discouragement.
It is in those times

Of difficulty,
If we are wise,
We stop and watch,
And listen

To the thunder
Of holiness,
The lightning
Of sacrifice,

And the merciful
Raindrops
Of ever flowing,
Beautiful Grace.

When we do this,
Our hearts,
Our minds,
And our bodies

Become renewed
With a wonderful
Power of light
And blessing.

We can look
Our pain and struggle
In the face again,
And smile.

Bloom in Any Weather

Iron sunflower stands tall above all.

Greets the small and greets them

Well.  Metal monster sets the stage.

Not much paint, but who needs

Decoration when you stand in the

Wind and rain, tornados, too!

Creatures can’t invade your walls,

Except the ones that are real small.

A tower of strength sets the stage.

The power of age resides true power.

What it’s seen in all these years,

Older than any tree around here.

 

 

Mag 76

Magpie Tales

 

 

Sometimes I Freak, Part III

Sometimes I freak when I go to church. When you step into a church somehow you feel like you should be on your best behavior. That’s not really a Godly feeling or sentiment, since I believe that God accepts us exactly as we are, wherever we are, but that is how I was raised. In fact, growing up, my mother was ruthless in spurring me and my brother to get ready and stop goofing around on Sunday morning. What was important was looking good by being on time, behaving well, answering questions intelligently and in a spiritual way—basically, putting on a front. Lord knows my family was falling apart at the seams in every way, with my grandmother passing away, my parents’ separation and eventual divorce, and my mother’s undiagnosed mental illness. All was not well in the Bowman household. And those feelings come back to me today as I step through the doors of a church, any church, even one as positive, inclusive and accepting as mine. I wonder what deviant thoughts people suspect me of (well, actually, I am quite the skeptic), what deviant acts I am guilty of that separate me from other Christians and from God, what rebellion I am in that alienates me from the same. Going to church is something I want to do, but at the same time, I do struggle with these things every time, and it compromises my experience on the whole.

Sometimes I freak when I try to pray. Yes, God and I are not on the best of terms—haven’t been for a long time. In fact, except for when I pray with others—my wife at the dinner table and the occasional attempt at a weekly prayer partnership, my male prayer partner, something I initiated this year as an attempt to get closer to God because of my lack of an intimate relationship, and the occasional prayer with my Sunday School class and with the congregation in the sanctuary—I am not on speaking terms with God. I know after that enumeration of instances it doesn’t sound bad, but I guess I am a perfectionist, and I realize how far I am from any kind of daily routine which would bring me into any kind of genuine intimacy with God. Being alone with God is a frightening experience for me. Feelings of emotional and physical abuse from childhood along with visions of an angry Yahweh of the Old Testament conjure a being to be faced that is not the loving, caring Jesus that spoke to the disciples in the upper room that fateful night and told them that when we see him we have seen the Father, because he and the Father are one. When it’s just me and God (and I have to admit it is always the vengeful Father that I envision in my mind, not the gentle Jesus), I just freeze up. Gone are the soothing thoughts of “come to me ye who are weary, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light”. Instead it is a booming God that stares down at me and demands to know every sin I have committed and has come to punish me for them in some crazy sadistic way that makes me cringe and from which I yearn to escape. Not a great relationship, obviously.

Sometimes I freak when I open the Bible. I’ll admit, it’s intimidating. Yes, there is a lot of wisdom there. Yes, I believe it is divinely inspired. Yes, I believe there is potential for healing, instruction, direction, inspiration, grace, forgiveness—all that. But you know what else there is? God. He is there, waiting, behind those words. For what? I don’t know. But the potential scares me. I have read the entire Bible many times over, and if there is one thing I know for sure, there is power behind those words. And the thought of being overpowered, perhaps in a scary way, is what keeps me from those words. I have been overpowered, many times, in absolute terror, and I have run from figures of authority, figures who were supposed to be trustworthy caretakers, symbols of love and support, that have turned on me like a viper lunging for its prey. Is God like that? My intellect tells me no, but my heart, and my body, are not so sure. After all, if humans, blood, family, can be tyrannical, how much more can God? And there is something else—God is all powerful. Do I want to surrender myself to an all powerful tyrant? Do I want his thoughts to be my thoughts? No, not by a long shot.