Eternity

Claustrophobic terror grips tight as death rips and tears
at the fabric of existence until it collapses upon
both trapped innocents and assumptive evil.
Yet outside the tent remains the open sky,
if any would breathe freely.

---

Only a Man

Speaking words insightful, true he
shared his thoughts, sometimes confused, but
growth and learning still poured through, yet
those who follow should examine what,
at the source, the right must be.

---

While I know it's wise to study truth and look within the Word for guidance rather than simply reading the words of any man and assuming they have it more right than anyone else, I always wince ahead of time when I look up those who challenge the writers that have given me new insight and provoked deeper thought and study.

Why must so many within the church so viciously stab those with whom they disagree? One can challenge an opinion or even see vital facts differently than someone ... without,... in effect, raising them on an altar and pouring molten metal over them in hopes they'll be struck by lightning....  Bleh. Turning someone into a public figure seems to be the next best thing to cursing them.

Excuse the rant, please. I'm off to wash my brain from the after effects of researching Watchman Nee ... and to thank God that flawed and sinful people still get some things right within the shaping of his presence. It gives me a hope that I can, by grace, effect some good in between genuine error and general mistakes.

A Christmas Card for You

May the warmth of our Savior, with love and compassion,
over flow from your life as these riches are given.
May you never see lack when you look on his face,
but only remember his unstinting grace.

---

Image:  Emerge Christmas - a digitally colored pen and ink - 2010

Curl Up, Warm

Sip tea, warm, on a microfiber day.
Curl in plush comfort and ask the cat to stay.
Recline and read words of comfort and pray.
Strangers rush beyond these walls and worry on their way.
Yet peace and love steep to flavor my heart today.

---



L.L. Barkat writes of how to steep tea today. Follow the link to read, join in the prompt and link your contribution.

On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place.

Forward - Photo Prompt

There is scarcely a difference, this I know,
from whence I come to where self would go.
Caught in the trap of desired to be,
my eyes are dead to what light I might see.
Yet death of the soul will not remain
when self falls away and Life lays claim.

---

One Stop Poetry photo prompt - "Arrow Shot" by Claudio Mufarrege; used with permission.  Find him at Twitter (@claudioar), Flickr, and Image-i-nation Daily.

The Moment of Exchange

In this moment I am different than I was only five minutes ago. Sometimes God brings us up to a truth and lets us skirt the edge of it, touching the borders blindly to find some of the aspects of it before taking the scales from our eyes and letting us catch the first real glimpse of what it really is.

I've been tangling with this (old/new) truth for months, maybe years? I'm not sure how long it has been there, sometimes more tangible than other moments, sometimes so far removed that I couldn't even begin to imagine what it was I had touched before. I don't for a moment think I can see it completely even now. But I can tell you one thing, I borrowed a pair of glasses and learned something new today. Even now God is installing glasses of a prescription guaranteed to correct my own particular blindness.

The Life that Wins is insightful. I fully intend to borrow Watchman Nee's glasses again, along with those worn by Hannah Whitall Smith. I recommend them to you.

And now for the exchange.

You see, I've been trying to be God's artist, God's writer, God's mother, God's wife, God's servant, God's friend, God's love, God's goodness, God's strength... do you get the picture?

I looked at the descriptions of what it looks like to live by grace and attempted to live them. I thought, "Ah, I have Christ, so I must be able to do this!" And sometimes, in spite of my own efforts, he managed to take over and do some good.

And now I see that this is truly what happened.

In spite of my efforts ...
In spite of me ...
Christ still managed to do some good.

But I managed to do my best otherwise known as the worst the rest of the time, leaving no room for his Spirit. Oh, how I wish to be good!

I'm not.

Come to find out, it's true that I can't do it.
I can't keep my home.
I can't love my husband
or my children
or my extended family
or my friends ...
or ...
well, lengthen the list with anything that occurs to you.

Even my words and art are empty and meaningless. (Aside from those moments when Christ managed to push past me.)

So, today I gave up.
I'm no longer going to try to be good.
I'm no longer going to think I can love, or that what I think is love actually IS love.
In fact, I'm no longer going to attempt to dream of having my own goodness.

It turns out that Jesus already has that part covered.
In fact, he's been trying to be righteous FOR me this whole time!
He's been good and holy and just and loving this ENTIRE time!

And with all my attempts and struggles all I've managed to do was block him.

Go figure.

I hope you'll see a difference now.

In fact, I'm trusting Christ to make sure there's a difference, and that he'll make sure to show himself thoroughly and remind me to keep out of his way.

You see, I think love and goodness and holiness and light and salt are all descriptions of Christ, not of me. I'm just choosing to act like I believe he is the sum of their existence from now on. I'll be studying his word to find out more things about him to believe, too.

Watch with me ... or better yet, get out of his way too! I can't really describe this completely. I don't really understand it yet. But it's true and it's real, and suddenly the Bible has illustrated Christ as so much bigger and better than I saw him only a couple hours ago. It's pretty cool, even while I blink and try to see more clearly.

I can't wait to see what he's got planned!

---

In an incomprehensible glimpse of grace, this post has been featured by The High Calling in the January 6th Around the Network. Follow this link to read the thoughts of others who have faced brokenness and found blessing through grace.

Memo to: Jesus

In regards to my request for repairs: 
You responded that I am just broken,
and that I can never improve.
Is it true that your only solution
is replacing my whole self with you? 

----

Sometimes we miss the part about the exchange and think he's offering a repair job.

I'm reading Watchman Nee's book, The Life that Wins.

Wisdom 1

Built into the fabric of creation,
wisdom pursues the foolish and unknowing
and cries behind them while they wander dead-end streets,
an eerie challenge to empty souls
fleeing in fear of the chasm she offers to fill.

---

I'm going to be thinking about wisdom for a while. Expect more on this theme.

Also, I've purposed to say more with less,... therefore, five or less lines have become the boundary of each posted poem for a while. Anything longer will be tucked away for a future time.

Purify

Flowing fast past fetid foundries,
souls stained with poison
pour over eternal stone,
and filter through light-defined Word
until only living water remains.

The News

I'm broken again, desperate to do
with eyes and hands, voice and heart,
owning too much,... and nothing 
that will fill the needs I see
in too short glimpses
of shattered world and broken city,
where wounded faces smile or weep ...
and I?
Oh, God, I look to You and wonder
what I've been doing all this time
that today I offer so little,
in open hands and vacant mind.
This time, tomorrow, I will be empty, too, 
after sharing every space filled by you.
Today I pray
that I will learn to pour out my portion to aide,
the broken, the lost, the shattered, the weak,
the hopeless, mistaken, seeking, enraged....
And those who would touch the world where they live,
those who know what is right,
the bold and the strong
who see paths to healing, who fill and restore.
And through every effort, I'll continue to pray.
Today, yes, today ... as I ever more give ...
I choose to pursue the more difficult path,
the place I belong, finding eternal treasures, 
with your promise that I will, at the last,
have more of your worth,
on your altar to pour. 

---

I avoid the news, usually. I can't watch the things that go on ... I can't know and do nothing. So I keep my heart safe from what I can't do by closing it out and looking only for what I can touch. But maybe I need to reach further.

Somehow I will help the whole world ... well, God does!... and he'll let me participate where I may, perhaps more than I think when I see only my limits without factoring in his strength. The more confident I am of his reach, the less afraid I am of knowing the things I can't help.

Even if the tears rip through my soul, they turn into prayers as they fall. And that is helping, too.

I just watched an overview of the destruction and continued suffering in Haiti. I know for a fact that this isn't the only place where thousands are overwhelmed by long-term circumstances that can't be imagined until they are experienced.

Oh, may their hearts rely on the Savior who miraculously provides both strength in trial and the means to move forward and overflow good into more lives!

 ---

Entered into One Shot Wednesday where poets join together to share their words, and everyone spends the week reading and enjoying them.

The Battle

She touched the pristine and the oil upon her frame
marred the surface, ever so slightly, before sinking in stain.
They, with their greasy, blackened palms open wide,
smeared wild their presence with abandon.
And she, taking her fists swiftly through,
thrust away their essence, weeping, angry, distraught,
and left her mark in turn, a shimmer of discarded skin.
Then, stained and corrupted by the contact, she stood,
unable to move without spreading desecration.

---

Judge not lest you be judged.... Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? | Don’t seek revenge yourselves, beloved, but give place to God’s wrath. For it is written, “Vengeance belongs to me; I will repay, says the Lord.” Therefore “If your enemy is hungry, feed him. If he is thirsty, give him a drink; for in doing so, you will heap coals of fire on his head.”  Don’t be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. | If we confess our sins, he is faithful and righteous to forgive us the sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (Mat. 7:1-3; Romans 12:19-21; I John 1:9)

They Whispered, She Knew

Behind cold shoulders they tucked in their ears
and whispered together, too soft to hear,
about her, she knew, though they wouldn't say.
She shivered in cold when she entered that day;
and brushed off the fleck of lint on her sack,
and tried not to notice their broad, turned backs.

Chill voices answered her thoughts, though too sharp
with why-don't-you-know-this, dear, snide remarks,
and they patted her arm with condescension
and told her it's better to never mention
those things she believes; and she thought that they knew
that her heart wept in pain there in the church pew. 

Frost touched her lashes, still glinting with tears,
as she knelt in the midst of her breaking and fears,
looked up to the cross and breathed out a mist
of awe and respect, a long gratitude list,
recalling those women with stiff and strained faces,
begging that she would not strive for their places.

When she was ignored, she went on with a smile
to love them more generously all the while.
And after a time, though not one would confess,
they requested her help in times of distress,
for always reflected most clear on her face
was the mark of redemption, a glorious grace.

Each time she walked by their doors glazed with ice
her compassion melted long tendrils of vice,
while light filled her hands and thrilled through her soul
as she stepped page by page and found mercy still whole.
She gathered a crowd, and not just a few,
by the glow and the warmth of the Word that she knew.

Still they whispered together as they watched her firm stride
since seeing her humble made clearer their pride.
But as she persisted, spring grew in their hearts;
they found there were seeds buried, ready to start.
They finally bloomed life as she quietly passed
back out of their world to her Savior at last.

---

Hmm ... I didn't know this was coming when I started to type this evening. It just grew.

Cozy Snowmen

Surrounded by snowmen isn't so cold
with their felted hands and stitched-on smiles.
They curl up close and sing sweetly,
holding bright candy, the sort we admire,
plastic and inedible, good for diets.

Borrow their caps and gloves for just a moment.
They won't miss them, nestled on the sofa, 
while we shiver and shape their likenesses
amid falling frost, fondly anticipating
peppermint canes and cocoa by the fire.

---

Oh, the irony.

I've submitted this to One Shot Wednesday. Wednesdays are open for submitting your own poem to the weekly collection or you can follow the link to read the many talented poets throughout the week.

Shadow Reason-Pain Light

Shadows darker than night
blocking all light
hover, stalk, wait
and pain blossoms without reason
because there is none
in the place where empty
grows, feeds, gnaws
upon the bones of its prey
never filled
consumed by consuming
propagating death
until the heart falls into its gaping maw.

Light brighter than day
casts such a shadow
by deadly rejection of filling
but darkness is
consumed, burnt away, eradicated
by the presence of completion,
where pain blossoms with a reason
to cure the ill and staunch the blood
stitching, sustaining, binding
propagating life
until the heart steps into the healer, whole.

---

Quick and imperfect.

The Quandary of Wandering Nighties

When Jinksy invites one to play, there is a distinct lure into a world where tiny voices chuckle, just out of sight.

Today, she invited us to speculate where her missing nighties might be.

The Quandary of Wandering Nighties

When wardrobes consume,
they loom
large over the dark hole,
a world, whole.
You might be dismayed
to find nightwear mislaid,
but someone has got it,
and perhaps they thought it
wouldn't be wrong
because it's not really gone,
merely carried deeper
than the usual seeker
will usually go,
through the mountains of snow
that we don't believe
or even conceive
may lie beyond the catch,
keyed to socks that mismatch.

---

I'll admit that C.S. Lewis may have provided a certain ... direction for this poem.

Repurposing

Today I took apart some old, broken jewelry and made new. This necklace and earrings are compiled from three items: a massive conglomeration of chain and pearls that may once have been a belt, a clip-on earring--That's the white bits with the dangley red sparkles.... Would you believe that's only 1/4 of the sparkle on that earring?--and a second earring offered the red pendant.

I made other jewelry, but those are gifts and you can't see 'em until they find new homes. 

To Touch the Sky

Wrapped in rapt wonder upon a bed
of smooth pebbles and sand,
rasping cool beneath fingertips
outside the cocoon of sleeping bag.
Water ripples softly, falling on stone.
One thousand rhythms twist on the wind
whispering gently through shadow leaves
on unseen branch and limb.
And there, suspended on a thought,
caressed by silver cloud,
like gems the stars are glimmering
to fragile tune, an unheard sound.
Breathe scent of mist upon the air
like song both sweet and cold;
taste silver strands of light;
let heartbeats, soft, unfold
the echo of eternity,
like mystery, its chime.
Only touch forever, now,
suspended within time.

---

I wish I could capture that feeling from my childhood. Up high in the Andes Mountains there is less atmospheric obstruction and fewer earthly lights. The sky cannot be described. It's a special memory ... with my family, class, or dorm, camping down by the river.

They Wondered

Looking into the interests of a world consumed
there are moments when mystery arrives
in the presence of the strange.
What can I say?
They wondered ... and their interest bloomed
in sudden perplexity no longer despised,
or perhaps feeling deranged.
They searched today.
And bear gall bladder uses were exhumed
from the depth of shadowed archives
and digital resources, exchanged,
knowledge craved.
And now I wonder, too, and will very soon
inhale knowledge through my eyes,
and become one with the rage
of curiosity in play.

---

A Wednesday Trendsday post ... I laughed for a very long time when I saw what was on the top-ten google trends, and it had to become part of a poem.

Also included in One Shot Wednesday ... where you can contribute to a selection of excellent poetry, every Wednesday ... or read throughout the week.

Now I'm off to find out what the uses of bear gall bladder might be .... what can I say?

Lemming, lemming, lemming! :P