An Open Window

An Open Window

(“But you, why do you judge your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God.” Romans 14:10)

My soul was an open window but you
persisted in pounding on the door.
You talked like you knew everything I’ve owned,
you thought I was hiding from you.
Once you saw the wounds but named them
inadequacies. There were shortages to be
sure, but not because I ignored them.
My soul was drafty until I found
the touch
of healing in the person who looked deeply
and refused to walk away.

The scars are still warm from the fever they felt,
and grew hotter the more exposed to the fiery gaze
that read them like tea leaves cursing my weak efforts
to escape,
the constant stare that sought to make me more aware
of the sighs heaped upon the weakest places in me.

I’ll keep a warm corner ready for you,
I’ll light a fire and put on the coffee.
I’ll set a place for you even though you gave
so little space for me.
And if you feel exposed, I will only pass you
the cream and sugar, put another log on the fire,
and ask if you would like to stay just a little longer
into the early evening of the day.

Piercing the Thickening Blue

Piercing the Thickening Blue

(“He will judge the world with justice and rule the nations with fairness.” Psalm 9:8)

I heard the drumbeat calling the warriors of peace
to the front steps of the palace, to the courtrooms of the mighty.
I heard the trumpets announce liberty to the captives,
from the back alleys of the cities to the wheat fields basking.
I saw the lights shine piercing the thickening blue,
I heard the voice of thunder that never slandered, for a day,
the convictions that love was still the way.
I’ve known how words can stain the most
beautiful visage, the prettiest panorama, and I hoped
like hope does when darkness threatens, that the
morning would bring a change of venue, a renewing
of the mind.

If we could repaint the stenciled rules, black on white stone;
if we could rehearse the lines taught by the truest mime,
maybe we will hear the call to think it all out again.
Maybe we will motion the people in back to come up higher,
to take a seat where their splendor shines.
If we sat with the refugee,
if we ate with the immigrant,
if we walked with the exiles,
if we sang with the prisoners until every chain
was broken,
we could parade past the courthouse and fly the flags of
freedom

Higher than any national banner upon a stainless steel
mast.

The Hat

The Hat

(“So why do you judge your brothers or sisters in Christ? And why do you think you are better than they are? We will all stand before God to be judged.” Romans 14:10)

He walked into the room with his hat
covering one eye. He always wore it like that;
no one knew why. But they made 1000 guesses
every time he arrived. Was he partially blind?

He didn’t hear their conversations but knew the
temperature of the room. He would have just as soon
been at the bar around the corner; after all,
they gave him the hat when he retired.

Tilted across his head, the hat provoked conversation
while he never said a word.