A Trio of Deer

A Trio of Deer

(“I will also destroy the false gods and put an end to the objects of worship…” Ezekiel 30:13)

When did the roots dry up;
why were the lifeless crosses lifted like
national flags to salute?
There is nothing impossible, there is nothing there,
there is everything we hoped for, there is more than
thin air.
Where did the beautiful deeds go;
who snuffed out the lamps of a hundred hearts?
There are silences greater than the rants
just before noon
on Sundays. There are still dreams to
plant in the soil. There are still sundowns to watch
together while a trio of deer eye us curiously.

I walk the same route every day. I have now for
three years or more. I stopped by your house on my way,
I stopped and knocked less often than I should.
It is nearly a year since you have gone,
nearly a year since I sat with you in the silent hospital room.
But today, I swear it is true,
a trio of deer stood in your yard. A trio of deer that would
have caught your eye like
the cargo ships in the river you could see from your front window.

We both hated the idols, didn’t we?
We both stumbled more than most.
But we knew the difference, didn’t we,
between solid ground and dust.
We both loved too many, didn’t we?
We both felt unloved and wrongly.
But we knew the difference, didn't we,
between spinning tops and curiosity.

When did Jesus become the way we
crucify beauty? When did thoughtful contemplation
become a chargeable offense?

All I know, a trio of deer were in your yard today.
And one doe walked toward me, and I knew that made
you smile.

Up By the Roots

 

Up By the Roots

(“Daniel…knelt down in prayer three times a day, giving thanks to God.” Daniel 6:10)

Would you pull me up by the roots
if I need replanting?
With every tick of the clock I
know
time is oozing by like a mudslide
tearing up the hillside.
Would you still sit beside me
in silence and solitary confinement?
Would you see what no one else sees
and still love me the same?
Would you believe (how can I deceive you)
that my love is deeper than ever before?
And yet I will not bow to the images;
I

Will

Not.

Nor to the graceless claws of
embattled rhetoric.

So, though I appear a fool,
though the days pass faster than
whitewater tumbling over the narrow
rock-strewn rapids,

I’ll grow if you plant me. And mis

Understood

By many, I’ll take my chances
that love still nourishes every prayer
I cannot say.

Added Dirt

Added Dirt

(“The whole body is joined together and connected by every joint and ligament, as every part effectively does its work and grows, building itself up in love.” Ephesians 4:16)

As time as added dirt beneath my feet the roots
weep more deeply for distant embrace.
Shadows of unaffected laughter, classrooms with morning light,
guitars in a circle and folk songs with unexpected trumpet runs;
all wait in afternoon sun for the reawakening of innocence.

Opinions run too high, anxiety has paid its price. The buds will bloom
without my constant pinching.

The satisfaction of morning roses and an eight-year-old neighbor
who wants a flower to give to give her mom, the boy on stage,
the man unafraid, the father mistaken and the elder still shaken
from the way the earth quakes; all speak in the sunlight
of connections frayed at the edges.

The dark clouds spin by and ego is overpriced. The sun will shine
without my backward flinching.

Come, arms and legs, eyes and ears, take me in and play again.
Come, classmate and peer, soulmate and handshake, hear me and sing again.
Our distances are paper-thin, our barriers self-erected. What have we rejected,

If not the best selves we once inhabited?