From Slave to Free

From Slave to Free

(“So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me.” Philemon 1:17)

It matters like the dust from stars falling into themselves,
it matters like the dust that comes from those final implosions,
from those super Novas spraying elements of carbon, helium, and hydrogen
into open space.

Surrounded by uncountable machinations and
propelled by undeniable afterthoughts we should not
hesitate
to call each other partners in a world full of unexplainable
light.
We kept accounts and hoped our tempos would synch up
before the end of the day.

We sang the same songs when we were together, and now
apart
let us sing them again, listening for the straight beats and
the syncopation. I am sending you back the one who could
only talk out of tune until I taught him the hymns you and I
both knew intimately. He was glad to learn, the runaway child,
and anxious to know if he could sing them with you.

So we set the tempo and worked on the temperament;
he has been found to be quite useful to me.
Shall I send him back to you with the song, he has
the lyrics fully internalized but he does take some liberties
with the tune. He is freer than I am, I think, in this regard.
And perhaps freer than you expected. But he is overjoyed and
ready to pay back anything he owes you. And what he cannot
I will cover. Imagine with me, this miscreant, this fugitive,
returning to you with a heart full of the same delight you heard
from you at night. Laying on his bunk he ached to learn the
songs of the spirit he heard from your house.

Having them now in his innermost being, he longs to join the
chorus as a son to you. Receive him, if you will, as a member
of the chorale. You won’t be disappointed, his tone is rich,
his tempo heavenly, and his visage is changed from slave to free.

The Ride of a Lifetime

 The Ride of a Lifetime

(“The only thing that matters is this new life we have from God.” Galatians 6:15b)

He mentioned baptism again and
everyone who heard grew restlessly quiet.
Anxious to prove their fidelity,
scores etched their names on the cardboard notecards
and passed them on down the aisle.

He mentioned prayer with fasting again and
so many feet shuffled they wore down the boards
where they sat.
Anxious to prove their holiness,
a dozen dug in their heels and wished for
one more steak before the week began.

He mentioned worship again and
those who sang loud, sang louder. Anxious
to prove their piety,
others hid behind the hands that waved so
exuberantly and hoped God did not mind.

But there was also a gentle wind that,
barely brushing the cheeks of the assembled,
filled in the gaps of the absent,
spoke in accents discernable to the
few with
ears to hear something both
foreign and familiar, and some followed
the breezy narrow way.

But some stayed behind, wanting to
be washed by the water,
heard for their fervor,
seen for their song-styles;
truly they had their reward.

The barely audible breeze led the few
inside out, foolish and pacific,
down streets with no names,
where the residents had no houses.
Down roads without p.o. boxes,
where the sojourners had lost their fame.

Some saw the chance for sun and rain
outside the domain of wooden walls and
concrete doctrine. Some were not sure
where the wind would take them,
but mounted inside it like a basket
under a hot air balloon.

And so, all were offered the ride of a lifetime.

He mentioned that it was time
to begin again.