A Little Dusting and Pruning

A Little Dusting and Pruning

(“You know that the day after tomorrow is the day of the Passover Feast. On that day the Son of Man will be given to his enemies to be crucified.” Matthew 26:2)

If the earth had stopped turning, or something even stranger,
we would have noticed it more than the posthole dug
on a Friday morning
awaiting the mixed sounds of mobs and mourning.

Like a thread wound round the earth, a thousand times and more,
the inner coils of an electric motor, the strands have surrounded the
inner core. And so, seas and continents are touched by the cruelest hoax
man thought he had ever devised.

The surefire method to rid the world of madman prophets is to
kill their sorry message with the breaking of their bones and heart.
And, so many succumbed to angry passion, some drank their own poison,
and followers fell at their feet, then drifted, then disappeared like rain clouds
that threatened a month of monsoons.

But, the One, the Son of Man was put down the same way by enemies
who grew religion alongside their houseplants in the windows.
A little water, a little dusting and pruning the dead growth just before
company comes; a faith well-suited for entitled classes who need a way
to keep the masses abated.

But truth is longer than potting soil, heaven deeper than pop-song worship.
And so, before the event upon the next dark Friday, perhaps a child would
kick a clod unknowingly
into the posthole made ready for a dead trunk of a tree
to root for a day while its fruit hung, and slowly dropped in agony.

Few call it victory, all know its name; Calvary, a skull-place is where
hate and sin were defaced by death. For, when He breathed His last,
gave up the spirit and said, “Father, into Your hands
I commit my Spirit”, he carried, in all his ugly scars,
every wound of the world to healing. Yet, unregarded by many,

There are still those who, supposing control is better than conversion,
tend their houseplant daily, keep up appearances, and sway the masses
to war. The Prince of Peace still is weeping.

Know the Fire

Know the Fire

(“Order the People of Israel to bring you virgin olive oil for light so that the lamps may be kept burning continually.” Leviticus 24:2)

Once the dust has cleared,
once the tables have turned,
once the night fog has lifted,
once the lessons have been learned

We may see the fire, we may see the fire,
we may feel the flame, and sing with every
citizen and alien, the light eternal
is climbing higher.

Once the guns have stopped,
once the arrows are sheathed,
once the cannons are silent,
once the truth has been believed

We may feel the fire, we may feel the fire,
we may see the flame, and dance at every
neighborhood and boundary, the light concentric
began the choir.

Don’t settle for less
when the deserts bloom.
Don’t keep up the battle
where war is entombed.
Wait for the valleys to rise,
watch for mountains to fall.
Lay down your armor, your shields,
your thrones and quarterly yields.
The day has arrived for divides
to learn from bridges and
home-light to be the newest general address.

We will know the fire, we will know the fire,
we will give the flame, and share with every
loyalist and objector, the existent light
is kindling desire.

Nor Bathed, Nor Washed

Nor Bathed, Nor Washed

(“This is the first and most important commandment.” Matthew 22:38)

Wetness never surrendered our sins, nor bathed, nor washed
them.
A chanted prayer or babbled tongue never broke the ceiling,
revealed the spoken faces or reassigned the thirsty graces
to the needy-not-us.
A whirling grandchild is not the Spirit’s toy,
divine words are not playthings to conjure a win
or a raise,
hide my sin or drop the haze upon my exposure.
The best for me and the slight for you,
the blessing upon my brow while it must be the cursed
who cannot pay the rent or
who have tsunamis sent to wake the dead. I love
my religion, my old songs, sawdust and drum kits
all within the hearing of the hungry who do not
know how to clean their houses or their children,
who swipe their paper-thin soles upon the newly-laid
carpet. (Will you sit here, closer to the door, and maybe
we won’t have to replace quite as much flooring.)

I’m the worst, I’ve just rehearsed my compassion.

Loving up and loving down, embracing light, enwrapping sound,
carousels of words, morsels of moments we hope will please
the deity we’ve become.

Oh holy and glory, all truth and only All who leaves
no space vacant in Your Fullness; who leaves no heart
empty in Your With-ness; let my witness be, my reality
the
elite thrones torn down and shattered, replaced
by
a simple and slightly tattered shirt from the back
of my closet
that I wear when I visit my
closest friends.

Short-Circuiting Truth

“Do not turn to mediums or spiritists; do not seek them out to be defiled by them. I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus 19:31

I admit, most people aren’t going to read something that begins with a quotation from the book of Leviticus. I hope some will read this. Let’s begin with what is clear. God is very specific in telling us to avoid turning to certain sources for spiritual information, help or comfort. Here he names those to be avoided as “mediums” and “spiritists”.

We All Stand

We All Stand

(“God is our shelter and our strength. When troubles seem near, God is nearer, and He’s ready to help.” Psalm 46:1)

The clouds hung like sheets in the wind,
while we craved what we never won;
oceans spin out of control while the earth bucks and bends
gravitation its way and then,
someone discovers the exception to the rule

And we all stand up and declare him the fool.

Lately the rain has colored the pages,
secretly the chords made us young;
celestas ring like handheld bells while chimes draw and call
crowds aloud and pedestrians crawl,someone composes a score upon cluttered rhythms and tones

And we all stand up to answer the phone.

The gentle are strong, sun or gloom,
while the cruel waste their breath and tongue;
lectures lock us imprisoned and letters turn the key
from the outside, to keep us in:
somewhere one voice ends the wrath; “forgive” trumpets grace first to last

And we still stand up to measure the past.

I Shake Another

I Shake Another

(“But the Lord watches over those who fear him, those who rely on his unfailing love.” Psalm 33:18)

See, the way you see; behold, the way you try the microscope
to find deeper than you knew till now. There are pools with swimming
beings, creatures unseen until magnification.

Look, the way you look; observe the way you try the telescope
to spell the names of stars furthers still. There are clothes with worn holes
spinning, sequins unseen, but we had conjectured.

When I shake your hand I bring the bits of dust and various lint
from the hands of those I chose to greet so much earlier. When you
shake my hand
with your other dust and further lint,
you leave with me the postcard (though subatomic)
of everywhere you’ve been; perhaps recently,

And then
I shake another, and hug a friend, I wipe a tear, and begin
or end,
or take the bending of time beyond laborious thought
into a sharing of the single world my hands have explored.

It is better to avoid boredom by dreaming boundaries have dissolved
than scheming higher walls to keep the unseemly outlawed.

Let us fear Him, the All-Mighty and All-Persuasive; how dare we
presume up
His perfect Freedom, His Art and Grace in designing this space without
our suggestions or outmoded notions. And, dare I observe that
from His seat about and beyond, from His throne within the atomic bond,
He, the One God, feels your enemy’s pain because

Your enemy is the epitome of His ultimate creation.