Never Sleeps

While a pastor on the Fort Berthold Reservation I was honored with the Indian name, "NeverSleeps". It was primarily because I was often responding to particular needs in the middle of the night.

Even more relevant, the Lord Himself, Maker of all, "Never Sleeps".

Surely you know.
Surely you have heard.
The Lord is the God who lives forever,
who created all the world.
He does not become tired or need to rest.
No one can understand how great his wisdom is.

Isaiah 40:28

Welcome to every reader. I am a simple follower of Jesus. He is perfect, I often fall short.

Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Facedown


Image result for facedown rio grande
Facedown

(“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” Ezekiel 36:26)

Bodies barely breathing,
others deceasing,
the river rising just within view.
The sun baked them and
the wind raked them as they
tested the cracks and mud
for the best way to freedom.

Bodies breathly praying,
others decaying
facedown in the river within view.
A father-and-daughter refugee, metered,
and turned away at the bridge of freedom.

Bodies breathless hugging,
others shrugging
as if the penalty for suffering is
a locked door, and stone fence,
a steel wall and granite hearts
of people who say they follow…

I cannot write it, the NAME, not when
those who carry it lie facedown, just two
turnstiles away from home turned to
hopeless sludge.

A father’s heart breaking,
a daughter embracing
for dear life as they waded the banks
of the Rio Grande.
What were their final thoughts as the river
pulled them down? How do you swim
with arms circled around the little gift,
the girl on your shoulders,
the girl with tiny fingers,
the girl who held your hand
when her eyes were question marks.
The girl who smiled when you mentioned America,
the girl who heard every cricket, saw every bird,
and with burned feet still loved the sand between her toes.

Facedown.

What apologies will we give,
what reparations? Life for a life?

Sit with me, America, on the banks of the Rio Grande,
wordless please, and hear the cry of children who made it
alive. And mourn the future and past,
mourn the dead, and exchange your granite for
arms that rescue the foreigner
before we are forced to mourn again.

Monday, June 13, 2011

There is Liberty

There is Liberty


(For my daughter Sarah, upon her High School graduation)

(“For the Lord is the Spirit and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is liberty.” 2 Corinthians 3:17)

You are a dancer, always have been one,
a performer first given a stage at home,
the mall, the gym, the theater, or friends with
a handycam reenacting the girls’ version of
Huckleberry Finn.


You loved to move while others watched,
applause was worth the cost of crinoline petticoats
and bumps on your socks that rubbed your toes
in all the wrong ways.


Stage fright tore at the four year old
who loved the dance and hated the fear,
mascara was replaced after the scary tears
receded long enough to attach the wig with
curls in place. But take the stage and the smile was


On

Ready to lead as the perfectionist took off.

You are Daddy’s dearest gift, a daisy, a delicate flower
learned to clean-lift her own weight and more.
And the happiest times I’ve ever seen you
are when you are lost in music, in love with the
moment God has given you, without thought of
the finished product or the decibels of applause.


Play your music, Princess; make it up as you go along.
Leave the precision behind, never mind the notes you miss.
Insist upon joy, mastery consists of freedom and excellence
in perfect tandem; precision and abandon writing your
latest dance of liberty.


I will still watch every note you play, hear your steps
(even miles away), and know the cries you make just
before curtain
are because you’ve studied your best
never want to let your own effort down.


I will still stand first at your finish
(you remember how I called out “Sarah” at every parade)
and be the ovation that leads the rest of the world
to know the girl I know. She is vulnerable as the field daisy,
as tough as barbells lifted overhead, as certain as a scholar,
and tentative as a newborn. All the best I’d hoped, bundled
in the tiny frame of the daughter gifted my by Father above.


I wish I had prayed more with you, taught you the Scriptures well,
led you to a steely faith that never feared hills or bends.
But I see, with all my weakness, the image of Jesus in your eyes,
and know you have learned the best part, apart from my
shyness about familial indoctrination.


Now fly, liberty lady, for Jesus is the Spirit within,
and never fear the curtain unveiling the next act
(unrehearsed) of destiny’s production.
You are product of love and intention;
take them and soar as the Spirit leads you
to play like you’ve never played before.