When you did come, O God triumphant to Jerusalem, what of longing or of grief mingled with the shouts that long ago were owed to their great king? – And how serene and strong the Fire and Zeal of Bethlehem consistent as the turning earth walked and whipped and worked pointing them to heaven and […]Read more "Triumphant"
Thank You, Lord, for children— little humans, full of life— laughing, jumping, singing, running; little robbers, demanding money, time, energy, patience; still, little diamonds, worth the cost— their words, their smiles, their hands, their hugs! small, magnificent treasures, lost in the quest for jobs, houses, clothes, cars; little children— made by God— whom Jesus never […]Read more "Thanksgiving: Children"
A crunch of fruit, and Death slipped his hands around God’s masterpiece and squeezed, pressing the life out nice and slow. Every child delivered, he caught by the throat. Some, he strangled straightaway. Others, he dragged gasping across the rugged terrain of years to the graveyard. No one escaped his grasp. Not even God. Death […]Read more "Death Crippled"
The night has taken Israel and drawn its blackness across the world like a shroud. The dark has bound us like our hopes, sealed up in a tomb. Does the God of Israel sleep? Does the LORD forget His people? A mother cannot sleep. A mother cannot forget her child. I have rocked him in […]Read more "Mary’s Tears"
The scowl of the skies— the black and churning clouds like vultures rounding me. The howl of the crowds, their dark and burning eyes with, “Guilty!” hounding me. The depths of grief I know, like swords thrust to the hilt. The plea upon my lips— a shattered cry of guilt. And still the deadly […]Read more "Forgiven"
Oh, the splendor of the Son, bowing in the midnight shade— Your will, not mine, be done. With the lights of supper gone, He faced the dark and prayed. Oh, the splendor of the Son. Freely, tears began to run as His purpose weighed. Your will, not mine, be done. The perfect […]Read more "The Splendor of the Son"
I did not know that perfect love was mine, wrapped up in swaddling clothes before my birth and opened there upon the cross—the sign that grants my meager soul its worth. More thrilling than an ice-cold breeze on hot and humid days, the moment when I knew that I had been the object of His […]Read more "Sonnet VIII"
In loving memory of my aunt who first saw Jesus with her eyes on March 1st, 2015. Like water passing through your hands and falling down again; like a river flowing near then streaming on again; like chilly rainfall pouring down, refreshing us again, is this simple wooden box, this mound of dirt, the graveside […]Read more "Like Water"