The Morning Broke Loudly

The Morning Broke Loudly

(“They are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” Romans 3:24)

I know the morning broke loudly across your consciousness,
I know the outcome pushed upon your chest like a trunk of pennies.
You expected better,
you hoped for something different than the same lines to the
same songs
over and over again.
I know you wanted to wake up this morning like summer.
I know you wanted to have a drink with your friends and celebrate.
You dreamed of so much better,
you yearned for the very thing that would give new words to the
same old songs
you enjoyed when you were young.

But the sun broke through the gray today,
the dogs chased each other and played in the field.
The promise felt like a fainting scarecrow,
I know,
I felt the fatigue too, sucking the last drop
of enthusiasm from the day.
But the sun still shone like summer,
the trees were letting go all around me
creating a carpet of seeds and leaves, heart-shaped leaves,
and the breaths we take are as full as they were
yesterday at this time.

I know the breezes are cooler this time of year,
I know the rain sometimes announces itself before the deluge.
You expected rainbows,
you hoped for the injustice in the world would never
consume the light you felt in your soul. So,
rainbow or no,
you knew the day would be hard. You knew the canyon
was narrow and shafts of light briefly played upon your brow.

I know you wanted to see this day brighter,
I know you wanted to dance like a playful fawn.
Instead you walked over the dew-drenched yard,
took the letters out of the mailbox
and went back indoors, sat on the couch and wondered
what would come of all of this.

The Cocoon Broke Open

The Cocoon Broke Open

(“Many people are suffering—crushed by the weight of their troubles. But the is a refuge for them, a safe place they can run to.” Psalm 9:9)

The doorway was locked to him,
he would not have entered anyway.
The doormat said, “all welcome”,
he knew he would have to become like them.

His wounds were invisible to all but his friends
who listened to his soul.  

So people thought his tears were
for dramatic effect. They thought he should control
his emotions. They thought God should have healed him.
They thought he must have done a lot of nasty shit to
be so broken so easily.

And maybe he did.
And maybe he didn’t.

He tried the promise of sanctuary in the habitat of
pews and stained glass,
to tents and loud guitars,
to youth groups and flag football,
to speaking in tongues and baptisms in ponds,
to trying to stop rainstorms with mighty prayer
and repair the breaches that
did not desire to be repaired.

And finally, the cocoon broke open and his
slimy
wings felt more vulnerable than before. For a moment
he wished
to be back in the front row, reading the hymns, tapping his toes,
and imaging halos around the choir members.

In time his wings were dry, and fluttering,
getting his bearings, he landed upon the first place
he could find. Her hair was auburn as she worked
in her garden. He alit upon the top of her head, resting
before his next excursion. And then, unexpectedly he
heard her thoughts:

“Now I feel like a Disney princess.”

The Waves Broke Like Concrete

The Waves Broke Like Concrete

The ocean waves broke like concrete on the
boarders in the sand who
dug in for the ride;
a modest place to rent.

Never wanting to hide, but a helmet would be nice
to protect the hard-shell thoughts that pinged like
billiard balls through the felt and slate mind. It
was high tide again
and the swim to safety
was beyond the reach of tenants
who had no claim to stake.

Was there a suction that would hold them in place,
a tentacle strong enough to grab a neighbor who
also could not swim
and stick it out long enough to
watch the sea back away again?

Is this the way families are made,
the way babies survive?
Is this the advent or the resurrection,
is this the tick tock at the art gallery,
have we run out of time?

Fascinating rhythm, strange syncopation,
days and nights,
weeks and months,
high tide, low tide,
neap tide and rip tide.

One look at the moon or sun
has a way of explaining everything.