Barely Awake

 

Barely Awake

(“Then Jesus said to him, ‘Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.’” Matthew 26:52)

 

In our dreams we move faster than light,
and barely awake we sludge so slowly we dare not move
from right to maybe so. What miracles of fear
and cold sweat escort you 500 miles and 30 years ago
waking cements our ego within its four walls?

And so we draw swords because evil men are demonic,
though we’ve never seen a devil bleed before.
And so we label them Jezebel and Satanic, cast our unholy spells
we call prayers
while love looks on, divesting us of its name.

Did you see the sweat like blood,
did you hear the cry of perfect love,
did you consider the cup he drank,
did you consider staying awake?

Those with heavy eyes wield the swords,
those with light in their soul heal the slain.

The most profound product of this world

Is

Tears.

Never in Shadow

Never in Shadow

“For as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.” Matthew 24:7)

Never in the shadows, never shrouded by raucous trombones;
He will not arrive in secret this time, nor hidden beneath the
world’s auto-phonic songs.

The silence will be smashed, the humming shattered by the
blast that disrupts each foolish pursuit; begun, newly ended
 or in-between. The Son of Man will not wait for each
bank account to be depleted and each investment,
replete with final bell percentages. The Master
returns on His own terms, without searching the
critics’ reviews.

Ready; He has published His arrival this time.
Prepared; He will not knock faintly.
Look up; He will flash, will thunder.
Awake; the sleeping will be startled,

The observant, with faces shining like the silver mirror,
the silky river reflecting the sun, will not know

Whether to stand and cheer,
fall and weep,
kneel and pray their name is inscribed
(reason and faith, the cross and grace are the
preface to the Book the Lamb authored of life).

In the twinkling of an eye all history will flash,
an orb embracing an orb; and time will meet
head to tail…when the Son of Man

Wipes the dark-storm wonder from the panorama
of human falter and the Divine Again.

Wake me Mid-dream

Wake me Mid-dream

Wake me up mid-dream from the slowly building magma,
swim with me midstream or float or wade, just be the company
I keep because I’m either weary or lazy and it’s so late in time
I cannot tell.

Pull me out of quicksand sideways until I realize someone actually
has a hold on me. I have more to see than the dark-lit haze
of needful naps along the way. Take me down the highway
full of surprises before the road rises near midnight
and sets me down at listless.

Shake me up to just to remind me You are there.
Skim across the opaque pond, a rock skip into my pining.
Become the comrade I say when the late side of the day
tells all others to stay away.

Take a whiff of me like a rose, pull me out of the doldrums,
and remind me of the rhythms that play in the backyard
where the bees fly flower to flower, the pill bugs crawl into themselves,
and the mocking birds try to sound just like my dog.

There was nothing sad except I made it so, when friends were
best during day, and dreams were what we should play better the next.
Homemade kites out of newspaper pages and the man down the block
with a garage-full of railroads chugging in HO gauge.

Let my nap refresh me again, not the place I wish I was every moment
I am doing something else. Let me walk with a friend, smile leading the way,
pain the simple and occasional salute to frowns once accommodated,
now nearly outdated. Let me wake
to awaken alive like the living child who made
boats out of sticks to float down the gutter
after the summer’s first shower.