The Price of Reconciliation

A grievance nursed is a wound unhealed.
God, melt to slag our hearts of steel.
Strain and smelt and blow and hammer
fuse and grind away.
All that offends, all that won't bend
humble us or we dismay.
Let the pained and wounded soul
cool into a holy mold.
A sword of hope that You hold high
a testament to darkened eyes.
Shape us then to Your good cause
and make me fuel flame of God!

Unmoved

The wings of a monarch butterfly
vibrant, quiet, weak
silence every poet
outshine every King
Fire in the beetle, wisdom in the ant
have you ever stopped to marvel
at one leaf of a plant?

One leaf of a plant
don't bother with the whole
in a leaf and one leaf only
is more wisdom than the world.

From Eternity the Father
commanded it to grow
a brief and endless wonder
a delight He wants to show

So many leaves of glory
and our darkened eyes walk past
dull to all the wonder
unmoved by God at last.

The time beyond Victory

If all of time will end

and the hearth of Sun grow cold

the ice at last expand 

to fill the very whole

if the earth will be made new

and Heavens without time

then every prayer that's 

prayed will be memorialized 

an Eternity to watch 

in retrospect and awe, 

how every cry was heard

then stored in Heavens vault.

No moth or rust within 

golden, silver,pure

when all things are made new

the saints will pray no more. 

What need to pray in Heaven 

when Christ does ever Reign?

What need to grieve past midnight

when at last the morning's come?

A memorial of bottles 

filling Heavens store

an Eternity to ponder

what God did the age before. 

The Stand

A thin silver cloud races across a high midnight sky

the moon burns like a lantern across the fields

the tired earth shifting and rolling beneath his steady feet

Underneath, the settled lands are moving

in the distance the settlers are well armed

In a wigwam burns a fevered dream

eagles feather, tobacco and fire crackling

sweating, he dreams of rifles mounted on the thunderbird

the young man runs outside 

and keeps his feet steady planted on the shifting land.

dark skin and flowing raven hair

a chant at the moon and stars 

useless rage, indispensable pride. 

The rolling ground swells under him

the overthrow of nations, the end of Moonlight. 

Slug Life

I’m a yellow slug,

        
                 slumbering

                       on a pile of  powdered salt.

      Wondering just how long

 it takes
       to dry.

Colombia

There is a field in Colombia 

Where the brightest flowers grow 

Hidden from America

There seeds are softly sown 

 

I breathed the fragrance of Colombia  

I found a stolen flower 

Dropped along the wayside 

Petals crushed by power 

 

I picked up the soft bloom 

I held her in my arms 

I poured water on her bruises 

and marveled at her charms 

 

Everyday I waited 

For a sign of life or hope 

And when her roots had sprouted 

I had to let her go

 

I lost her in the moonlight 

I searched the garden through 

I wandered in the starlight 

'till sunrise struck me through 

 

I knew I couldn't keep her

I knew her scent would fade 

Perhaps Colombia is sweeter 

In the field of hope and pray  

 

Progress

 

The saints are busy praising.

The sinners at their drinks.

I am busy searching for a 

Quiet place to think.

Lord help me in this midnight

Know what roads to tread 

Keep me in the daylight 

Keep me safe and fed.

Save me from the scoffers

And the ways of cruel man

Be that a man a woman 

Be that man a friend 

The shadows have fled till morning 

The wind my only friend 

Lord keep me from the limelight 

Keep me safe and fed