He sits upon that colt more like a king than like the teacher crowds so long to throng. He teaches, talks, and answers every wrong and slips away from all the traps they spring. He speaks in riddles, uttering a thing that grows no clearer though explained. And long I wait, and follow through the […]Read more "Dark Sonnet"
Forge-created, etched in image fair. Heated, glowing, pounded down in place: form and likeness of the royal heir – Payed in secret and in open air. Merchants nod to see the well-known face: forge created, etched in image fair. – Jostle carried; through the open square a group of scholars clustered, in a space: the […]Read more "Etched"
Growing outward toward the sun and finding in themselves the green and liquid life, increased in state: the stuff of fame the fronds that grew to fan the royalty. _____ And yet today, they find themselves torn from source, and carried, triumphed, in the air. As people shout around and crowd, they throw their palm […]Read more "Dying Life"
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"