The Circle Widens

The Circle Widens

(“Let me tell you, it’s easier to gallop a camel through a needle’s eye than for the rich to enter God’s kingdom.” Matthew 19:24 [The Message])

The circle widens as we look toward the horizon and see
the way we waste our efforts in converting 400 people to become
just like us.
The night darkens while we light another lamp to create
some smokey brightness to break open the faces that are
just like us.
The private jets whoosh past above the timberline where the snows
stays trapped from middle Spring squalls, captained by people who are
just like us.
We never expected to be such consumers of black plastic bags and
thousand dollar bills. We had only hoped to have enough to eat tomorrow
and to have a little lunch for later in the day. But billions landed
next to us, from a suitcase in the sky,
and what could we do but spend it like a black-tie dinner.
Some, I heard, spent their earnings in little bits at a time:
a power boat, a jet ski, a Mercedes or two, an indoor tennis court
and spices that come all the way from china. Money made us think,
money made us lose track, money made us turn black what would have been
the brightest of skies.
The rich point at the homeless and refuse to listen to their stories,
and accuse them of not taking advantage of programs made for them.
One fool says we should take their lives involuntarily. That is what has
become of pursuing Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

No wonder it is nearly impossible for rich people to enter the kingdom,
they are so bloated, so overfed, so obese they cannot fit their
fat asses through the gates to the kingdom. We wonder how to remember
people that were once
just like us.

How the Universe Winks

How the Universe Winks

It was easier when the boxes were new,
special delivery left on the front porch
left no doubt of the sender’s intentions.
Time has
warped the containers and I cannot
find the
reminders of words I wrote to faces I
barely remember.
I never asked for refunds, only something to
exchange
to take the place of silence that has
worn me out.
People who barely know me wave
as I walk by,
but the ones that cradled my heart are at
the bottom of a storage container in the
garage, musty as cardboard, gritty as
8 track recordings.
Remember when we sang like we
knew how the universe winked?
Remember how we hid our shy inhibitions
behind every verse?

It was clearer when the fog rolled it
making the air touchable, making our cheeks
sweat.

Do you remember when we paid little attention to
babies
until we had our own,
until they had their own? Do you miss
finding scented envelopes in the mail?

Love Is Easier

Love Is Easier

(“No one pours new wine into old wineskins.” Luke 5:37a)

Love is so much easier than
reading from the scripts winding in your head
like chains and locks, like handcuffs and square knots.

There are more than the old, scribbled writings,
life is richer than the ransom notes we send
human after human,
year after year,
sermon after sermon,
election after election.

Joy flows if you will find it,
the grapes burst with sun and earth.
The wine brings color to the cheeks and
brightness to the eyes. Why protest
the radiance that
sets the bluebirds flying?

Love, rain on me here.
Joy, shine early and near.

On a planet, bio-diverse, sing the choruses
that list each divergent tongue as the number one,
the melodies that launch embraces instead of
vacuous mumbles repeated for effect.
There are far more faces than fit within your
narrow theology.

Love is easy. Love is wind and rain
and wine and mud. Love is never asking for
a decision or,
holding unknown soundwaves in derision,
shouting louder than the spectrum you think you
invented.

Love, fill us like daysprings.
Joy, etch our faces like newborns.
Love is easier if
we take the time to share new wine
trampled by feet we never knew.

Why Are Some Days Narrow?

Why Are Some Days Narrow?

(“But now for a brief moment grace has been shown from the Lord our God…so that our God may enlighten our eyes.” Ezra 9:8)

Why are some days narrow slits letting through
only a ray at a time?
Why do the silent clouds
drown out the robin’s songs?
Here in this heart, vacant for so long,
there is room enough for
the universe.
Here in these eyes, darkened for so long,
there is light enough for
all of us.
Why do some minds that
should have been opened long ago
profess love and
push the stragglers off the narrow road?
Why are most peoples’ gods a filmy image
of animus and prejudice?
Here in this room, filled for 100 years,
sit only 8 or 9, maybe a dozen next week,
decrying the leaden darkness when
the air outside is alive. Hope is the
title of humanity’s verse. Love never
needs a dress rehearsal.

Not all epiphanies happen in a moment,
most are slow-motion.
They hit your soul first, the ocean’s breath,
before they mist the air, your mental unrest,
that drives you to voice
everything you have always known.
And then you ask the questions

About why
you let the narrow slats
limit your attention to a universe full
of butterflies visiting poppies.
The rest stops come easier now.