4/28/2011
4/27/2011
(oikos)
we have come to a heavy part, my friend
and
the singing is difficult,
i am very weary.
the song itself is heavy - each note is like a stone,
each syllable like a brick of gold.
sing with me, for i am filled with the heaviness of the song
and i long to drop it
and be silent.
sing with me, lest the song be silenced
and music perish from the earth.
and
the singing is difficult,
i am very weary.
the song itself is heavy - each note is like a stone,
each syllable like a brick of gold.
sing with me, for i am filled with the heaviness of the song
and i long to drop it
and be silent.
sing with me, lest the song be silenced
and music perish from the earth.
4/25/2011
[the wastefulness of creation]
Three Ridges Trail
April 23, 2011
(these pictures are for you, laura)
and it was clear,
out there in the fog
with the trees towering over us,
that God's sanctuary is not made
with human hands,
but rather through the Word,
in whom dwells all the goodness and majesty and holiness
of God the Father.
We had walked into one of those held-together places
where the beauty of creation
held up a mirror to the One
at the right hand of God.
Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in Thy presence is fulness of joy; at Thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. Psalm 16:11
If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Colossians 3:1
April 23, 2011
(these pictures are for you, laura)
and it was clear,
out there in the fog
with the trees towering over us,
that God's sanctuary is not made
with human hands,
but rather through the Word,
in whom dwells all the goodness and majesty and holiness
of God the Father.
We had walked into one of those held-together places
where the beauty of creation
held up a mirror to the One
at the right hand of God.
Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in Thy presence is fulness of joy; at Thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. Psalm 16:11
If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Colossians 3:1
4/24/2011
He Is Risen Indeed
my love is sleeping in the other room
as the neighbor's dog scratches at the door and barks.
Rain, thunder, and repetitive birdsong
steal in through the window screens.
It's Easter Sunday.
He is risen...
...but the dishes aren't washed
and the floor isn't swept
and that dog is still barking.
And barking...
...but He is risen.
The Lord Christ is risen from the dead...
...but my puny tomato plant is
being beaten down by the rain
and laundry needs doing
(and barking barking barking)
and tomorrow's Monday and my feet hurt...
...but He is risen.
Lord, listen to the grimy misery of my heart,
encrusted with the mundane
and saturated with trivialities;
right now, it cannot soak in the Easter glory
or revel in redemption.
Lord, help me!
Tangled in chains of self-focus, my spiritual feet
cannot run to the tomb to rejoice with the angels;
My ears are tuned only to creation groaning in frustration.
How else could one barking dog drown out out the whole host of heaven?
Day and night they do not cease to say,
HOLY, HOLY, HOLY is THE LORD GOD, THE ALMIGHTY, WHO WAS AND WHO IS AND WHO IS TO COME.
Laden with spices, the women went to anoint your body; they loved you.
Even in their grief, their faith was strong - the stone was too big
for them to move, but they trusted you.
You led them to an open mystery, you rewarded their faith with Christ,
you replaced their tears with wonder.
You are mighty; you are Life.
In perfect obedience to Love
you fulfilled the written requirement.
You are worthy; you are the Lamb.
Forgive me, Jesus, for lingering so long today
before acknowledging your authority over death and its children;
in my head, I know you are the Light of the World
but the shadow-nature lurks within,
darkening my heart from you.
Only in your victory is sin conquered.
Only in your light do I see light.
Forgive my unbelief. Thank you for your grace. Lead me in your truth.
Alleluia!
Amen!
as the neighbor's dog scratches at the door and barks.
Rain, thunder, and repetitive birdsong
steal in through the window screens.
It's Easter Sunday.
He is risen...
...but the dishes aren't washed
and the floor isn't swept
and that dog is still barking.
And barking...
...but He is risen.
The Lord Christ is risen from the dead...
...but my puny tomato plant is
being beaten down by the rain
and laundry needs doing
(and barking barking barking)
and tomorrow's Monday and my feet hurt...
...but He is risen.
Lord, listen to the grimy misery of my heart,
encrusted with the mundane
and saturated with trivialities;
right now, it cannot soak in the Easter glory
or revel in redemption.
Lord, help me!
Tangled in chains of self-focus, my spiritual feet
cannot run to the tomb to rejoice with the angels;
My ears are tuned only to creation groaning in frustration.
How else could one barking dog drown out out the whole host of heaven?
Day and night they do not cease to say,
HOLY, HOLY, HOLY is THE LORD GOD, THE ALMIGHTY, WHO WAS AND WHO IS AND WHO IS TO COME.
Laden with spices, the women went to anoint your body; they loved you.
Even in their grief, their faith was strong - the stone was too big
for them to move, but they trusted you.
You led them to an open mystery, you rewarded their faith with Christ,
you replaced their tears with wonder.
You are mighty; you are Life.
In perfect obedience to Love
you fulfilled the written requirement.
You are worthy; you are the Lamb.
Forgive me, Jesus, for lingering so long today
before acknowledging your authority over death and its children;
in my head, I know you are the Light of the World
but the shadow-nature lurks within,
darkening my heart from you.
Only in your victory is sin conquered.
Only in your light do I see light.
Forgive my unbelief. Thank you for your grace. Lead me in your truth.
Alleluia!
Amen!
4/21/2011
4/20/2011
water of life
"God gives vision because of need. If there is no need, there will be no vision."
Water of Life,
I need thee. I am parched to my roots.
I am scorched, I am wilting.
Revive me.
In my need, give me a green vision.
Not because of my need,
but because of thy Nature;
not because of my pain,
but because of thy grace;
not because of my death,
but because of thy Life;
not because of my weakness,
but because of thy strength;
Heal me, that I may sing of thy power,
that the greatness of thy Name might spread
like a cloud.
That the glory of
thy Son may storm the face of the earth.
Water of Life,
I believe that there is no growth
or goodness apart from thee.
I need thee.
Revive me.
all hail the King, who holds dominion. all praise and honor to Him be given. Let all rejoice, for the glory of the Lamb is at hand
(photo from SMI)
Water of Life,
I need thee. I am parched to my roots.
I am scorched, I am wilting.
Revive me.
In my need, give me a green vision.
Not because of my need,
but because of thy Nature;
not because of my pain,
but because of thy grace;
not because of my death,
but because of thy Life;
not because of my weakness,
but because of thy strength;
that the greatness of thy Name might spread
like a cloud.
That the glory of
thy Son may storm the face of the earth.
Water of Life,
I believe that there is no growth
or goodness apart from thee.
I need thee.
Revive me.
all hail the King, who holds dominion. all praise and honor to Him be given. Let all rejoice, for the glory of the Lamb is at hand
(photo from SMI)
4/19/2011
[glean]
hands
pricked by stubble
dry mouth, dusty hair
back bent, neck sunburned...
gleaning, gleaning
Take heart! Your kinsman-redeemer has seen your labor;
he knows your struggle: each grain a kindness to bitter old Naomi,
each day a love-offering to your dead husband.
He sees how freely you sacrifice.
He prizes you in his heart.
Be of good cheer, Ruth -
better days are coming!
pricked by stubble
dry mouth, dusty hair
back bent, neck sunburned...
gleaning, gleaning
Take heart! Your kinsman-redeemer has seen your labor;
he knows your struggle: each grain a kindness to bitter old Naomi,
each day a love-offering to your dead husband.
He sees how freely you sacrifice.
He prizes you in his heart.
Be of good cheer, Ruth -
better days are coming!
Blue Ridge Mamma
the river's rising
the clouds are thick enough
to make the sun seem like it never was
i've got the blues, mamma,
i've got the april blues
honey, it's days like this
you gotta lace your boots on good
and fight your way back
to the sweet virginia hills.
only one cure I know, child -
you gotta sit down among the bluebells
& just be still.
the clouds are thick enough
to make the sun seem like it never was
i've got the blues, mamma,
i've got the april blues
honey, it's days like this
you gotta lace your boots on good
and fight your way back
to the sweet virginia hills.
only one cure I know, child -
you gotta sit down among the bluebells
& just be still.
4/18/2011
The Last Samurai Sky
When I look up at
The wide-stretched plain of heaven,
Is the moon the same
That rose on Mount Mikasa
In the land of Kasuga?
(Abe no Nakamaro)
4/13/2011
The Lyre & the Snake
(draft 1 in progress)
Apollo walked the corridors of light
carrying his bow. The arrows at his back
were tipped for war. His eyes, brighter
than the blaze of Troy, burnished
the ground beneath his feet.
His voice hummed low an
old paeanic hymn. The words
were grim:
twice molten by the
muses' gaze
are those who fail
Apollo's praise.
thrice plagued - undone -
may mortals fall
if they forget Apollo's thrall.
The snake foretells, the lyre sings,
and arrows strike on sunlit wings.
Apollo comes
Apollo comes
Cupid hears his song with scorn. Draws from his quiver two shafts - one gold, one lead.
Apollo...Daphne...the song is dead....
Could it be that he who gives oracles
to all in the world
is not wise enough
to look
into
his
own fortunes?
Grief ecliptic. Victim? Victor?
The girl is tree is leaf is sacred.
Oh my laurel love, daughter of the river-god...o my Daphne, Daphne!
Reason is fled, heresies abound - listen to old Aristarchus!
He scoffs the very chariot of Helios.
Or that old scholar-scoundrel, Ptolemy.
measuring distance from the earth to the sun in myriads of stadia...
lyre and the snakes!
snakes and lyre...
godless men will end in fire!
image from here
Apollo walked the corridors of light
carrying his bow. The arrows at his back
were tipped for war. His eyes, brighter
than the blaze of Troy, burnished
the ground beneath his feet.
His voice hummed low an
old paeanic hymn. The words
were grim:
twice molten by the
muses' gaze
are those who fail
Apollo's praise.
thrice plagued - undone -
may mortals fall
if they forget Apollo's thrall.
The snake foretells, the lyre sings,
and arrows strike on sunlit wings.
Apollo comes
Apollo comes
Cupid hears his song with scorn. Draws from his quiver two shafts - one gold, one lead.
Apollo...Daphne...the song is dead....
Could it be that he who gives oracles
to all in the world
is not wise enough
to look
into
his
own fortunes?
Grief ecliptic. Victim? Victor?
The girl is tree is leaf is sacred.
Oh my laurel love, daughter of the river-god...o my Daphne, Daphne!
Reason is fled, heresies abound - listen to old Aristarchus!
He scoffs the very chariot of Helios.
Or that old scholar-scoundrel, Ptolemy.
measuring distance from the earth to the sun in myriads of stadia...
lyre and the snakes!
snakes and lyre...
godless men will end in fire!
image from here
4/12/2011
[remembering that june sky in the florida keys]
shake out the crick in your neck
it's the end of the day
and
the sky is saying goodnight
All the long hours you've been staring
into spaces right in front of you....
don't you know that God is bigger than that?
Go out to the water's edge,
the Lord wants to bless your eyes
and soothe your mind
with the chaos of perfect
harmony.
it's the end of the day...shake out your soul
and make room for Beauty.
4/08/2011
to the lions!
"They say to me 'Return!' But from the arms of God to whom can I return?...It is now 45 years that I am walking with the God of miracles, and His kindness upon me is like a shadow. Therefore I am not only satisfied to be in prison for the honor of His Holy Name, but am ready to give my life for the sake of Jesus my Lord, and enter into His kingdom sooner." - Pastor Mehdi Dibaj, imprisoned in Iran for ten years, released, and then murdered.
One of the most brilliant men who ever lived...(from opium to freedom)
This is the second-to-last poem ever written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge:
My Baptismal Birthday
God's child in Christ adopted, - Christ my all, -
What that earth boasts were not lost cheaply, rather
Than forfeit that blest name, by which I call
The Holy One, the Almighty God, my Father? -
Father! in Christ we live, and Christ in Thee -
Eternal Thou, and everlasting we.
The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death:
In Christ I live! in Christ I draw the breath
Of the true life! - Let, then, earth, sea, and sky
Make war against me! On my front I show
Their mighty Master's seal. In vain they try
To end my life, that can but end its woe. -
Is that a deathbed, where a Christian lies? -
Yes! but not his - 'tis Death itself that dies.
This is the last:
Epitaph
Stop, Christian passer-by!--Stop, child of God,
And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seem'd he.--
O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.;
That he who many a year with toil of breath
Found death in life, may here find life in death!
Mercy for praise--to be forgiven for fame
He ask'd, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same!
(dated November 9th, 1833. He died on July 25, 1834.)
My Baptismal Birthday
God's child in Christ adopted, - Christ my all, -
What that earth boasts were not lost cheaply, rather
Than forfeit that blest name, by which I call
The Holy One, the Almighty God, my Father? -
Father! in Christ we live, and Christ in Thee -
Eternal Thou, and everlasting we.
The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death:
In Christ I live! in Christ I draw the breath
Of the true life! - Let, then, earth, sea, and sky
Make war against me! On my front I show
Their mighty Master's seal. In vain they try
To end my life, that can but end its woe. -
Is that a deathbed, where a Christian lies? -
Yes! but not his - 'tis Death itself that dies.
This is the last:
Epitaph
Stop, Christian passer-by!--Stop, child of God,
And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seem'd he.--
O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.;
That he who many a year with toil of breath
Found death in life, may here find life in death!
Mercy for praise--to be forgiven for fame
He ask'd, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same!
(dated November 9th, 1833. He died on July 25, 1834.)
4/01/2011
missing the florida sun
when i consider how my light is spent
far from my mother's table & my father's arms;
that one home that was my joy & pride
flung from me, reckless, ere my youth was done...
O, you deceptive blessings of progress! You enable the distance!
(photo credit to Caroline Pilgrim)
far from my mother's table & my father's arms;
that one home that was my joy & pride
flung from me, reckless, ere my youth was done...
O, you deceptive blessings of progress! You enable the distance!
(photo credit to Caroline Pilgrim)
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