Along the crook of where ocean meets land
I find myself walking over sea glass;
treasured gems in reverse,
not found in nature and refined by man
but having been discarded by man
has been refined by nature
I pick up a piece and ask it a number of questions.
What onslaughts have you withstood
to become so smooth and beautiful?
How many times did you wonder
if all the ocean's tumbling was worth
this beauty you could not have seen
along the way?
Where did you gather strength
to endure years pitched about
after being pitched out?
What does the voice of God sound like...
when it bores through self-hatred
and burnishes your broken edges?
How did you stay strong without fracture?
How did you patiently await the vision
of what you would become?
I slip the gem into my pocket
and I can hear it look me in the heart to say,
"I have al the same questions for you?"
If I Knew I'd Be Blind
Loving eyes
His love is more potent than any other
because His eyes are more powerful than the rest
His eyes see through the filth and crust
they see through perversion
His eyes caught and catch glimpses of the Divine intention hidden in every person in every way His first loving act is to give new eyes
God's Absence
On your darkest nights of pruningDo not expect to bear fruit
no one bears fruit in pruning
The experience of absence Is not the absence of experience buds will develop in time
and it will be beautiful
Wrestling with God
When I wrestlewith my kids, I hold back my strength so they can win
Contain
You cannot be far from meonly I can be far from You You fill the earth like the ocean fills a submerged cup
You are not contained but contain
Vibrations
When life's vibrations turn to shaking
the only way to calm it is
to take hold of something solid and unshakable
A Christmas poem
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1WtidrdOUuc&w=560&h=315]
Poetry bits: braille
I wish I could write
these words in braille
so you could feel
what I am saying
* I am working on a piece called "Machine" and this line came to me today. I wanted to share it.
Machine
Beware when your ministry
is a well-oiled machine
for machines have not hearts
though productive machines know nothing of affection desires or hope