Memory Deceves

Memory Deceives

(“Everything seemed to go his way. But then the strength and success went to his head. Arrogant and proud, he fell.” 2 Chronicles 26:16a [The Message])

Deep within fascinating sleep between
interruptions of volcanic dreams there are footsteps
that like to scheme slight radicals for the slumberer’s benefit.

Taking night as if they owned it between their arms,
directing the stars as if they were marionette strings,
the rearrange the joy the single soul found
and turn it around into grief over laughing.

One sleep and the singing is gone,
one week and severance is complete,
a month and memory deceives every
reasonable smile.

Deep within well-meaning the waters have neither
sun nor manifest reflection, only muscled redemption
rock slimy.

Taking the morning as countless as always,
hoping it will speak without devices but plainly
like sun on the sand or rain throughout the forest,
joy may have been stolen by

Someone stalking the night possessed of intentions to
turn the town, squeeze the heart, scrub the sin
and win it all with a parade naming

The new Great Awakening. The label
written in the dark, now illegible to the sleeper
who only hoped to keep the joy just one
song longer.

Ready for the City

Ready for the City

(“The glory of God made the city bright. It was dazzling and crystal clear like a precious jasper stone.” Revelation 21:11)

No more dreary within, without;
sunlight minus the star, moonlight just as bright,
and the faces I’ve missed that open the sparkle new like then,
will stay and not leave, play and conceive every note we imagined
sung again, impromptu again, collaborating lately like once upon a time.

Right now I barely face the day,
and the faces I remember are much too far away to cheer
the movement in mud hope has become.

I am ready for the city, buzzing like Christmas eve downtown,
without the pushing, the panic, the gravely grab for one more
gift wrapped late. Only the Salvation Army bells, the carols over
cheap boardwalk speakers, the children giggling over what is in the
sacks, the boxes, the trunk and closets. Just the seventh-grade disciples
dressed in white, singing joy to the world down a nursing home hall
out of tune, dropping words, shy but loving the attention.

I am ready for the city dressed like a jewel,
the color of air, the taste of sunrise,
where every friend is the same face all around,
every face genealogy, heirs together without a moment’s deliberation.

I am ready for the Throne, my tears the prism seeing the
rainbow river that embraces the dais. And I am shattered in
a moment unchanged, shards frozen midair before Perfection’s height,
and I see the cracks I hoped had held together, I hoped to hide in the
par-light of a shadowy sun.

Before the Creator who fashioned me well, every crack was now a crater
and I stood, could do no other, in the face of such glaring inspection. Jesus

i cried

Son of God, have mercy on me.

I am ready for the city, dressed like a jewel,
and cannot remember a smidgen or minute when
dark spoke its half-face or chips ruined my value.

I am ready for the city, all has been made known,
the cover-ups disrobed, and, not alone, I and we,
surround the throne, light, air, water and quantum waves
off Love’s pure reign.

In the Neighborhood

“I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: ‘Look! Look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They’re his people, he’s their God.’” Revelation 21:3

It is the Thursday after Christmas, which fell on a Sunday this year. Because this holiday is so centered around family gatherings, it is probably the most evocative time of the year. Emotions can range from the thrill of young children ripping open multi-colored paper to a couple sadly alone because family is so far away. Highs and lows are punctuated like staccato notes in the middle of soft ballad.

Established

“Jehoshaphat stood to say, ‘Hear me, O Judah and you residents of Jerusalem! Trust in the Lord your God, and you will be established. Trust in His prophets, and you will be successful.’” 2 Chronicles 20:20

We would all love a handbook that gave us 10 easy steps to success in whatever we endeavor. You want to make money in retail? Just follow these instructions, practice them daily, and you will never lack for money. You don’t care about money, but you would like the ladies to fall madly in love with you? Read about the fool-proof method and you will never have to worry about a lonely Friday night again. Money and women don’t do it for you; fame is your thing? We have boiled down everything the Beatles did into 10 unfailing principles for “knock them dead” repeat radio play music.

Where Upon

Where Upon

(“When God created man, He made him in God’s likeness; He created them male and female.” Genesis 5:1a, 2b)

Where upon the mountains, the names of things are airy,
only in the homes are labels plastic attached.
To save a bird from extinction, we give it the distinction
(classifying by name wing-style and beak)
and pin a note to the forehead sky, hoping it will
notice, male and female, to mate, fly and procreate
littles and much until the name is ubiquitous once more.

Where upon the memories, the names of faces are blushing,
only on the meadows is laughter’s echo holy.
To save more hope from obscurity, we remove its impurities
(drinking at the river run pebbled stream)
and fly another kite high in reflection, knowing it will
capture, male and female, to live, love and honor
bigger and focus until
the

Name is heart and marrow once more.

Drop It!

Drop It!

(“God told the serpent: ‘Because you’ve done this, you’re cursed, cursed beyond all cattle and wild animals, cursed to slink on your belly and eat dirt all your life.’” Genesis 3:13 [The Message])

What is that burden you carry?
What is the callous shoulder to shoulder?
What is the “I” that takes every word the world makes
as an arrow sent to tackle your balance?
What is the line drawn across your forehead more
permanent than a tattoo?

What is your lineage; the snake, the sin?
Your heritage; weight and chagrin?
What is your birthplace, the cabinetry predating
the old stands back of your home?

Why do you pace like curse when curse is dead as
dirt; a hill-full of criminals built for One raised above
raucous, surrounding the sound of menace that
lost its legs over wages of stealth and trickery.

You do not live in the old home,
the lines were erased, your burden is misplaced upon your shoulders.
You were born instead, you were chosen ahead

Of the frowns you drop upon the floor
and pick up to wear again
proof in the packaging you are oh so devoted
(more than all the smile light and heart phrases bumped from
wall to wall)

What is the secret you forgot?
What is the memory, warms and grin?
What is the final blow, the ebb (silent grief)
the flow (holy breath)
that remembers the death blow to every serpent
that tried to raise its head above the Human Prince’s heel?

Why pay taxes on the old snake’s wages,
You’ve got miles ahead (age to ages)
and do not need to show so pious
that you carry a knapsack of stone.

Drop it where you stand,
cry and let the sand swallow the grief
until the life you’ve tried to tame comes screaming out
in full relief…the joy that knows a snake is just a snake
and no one asked you to wrestle the legless creep.

In Fashion

“See, I come like a thief. Blessed is the alert one who takes care of his clothes so he need not go around naked and people see his shame.” Revelation 16:15

One of my recurring dreams as a youngster was going to school and realizing I was still in my pajamas. Sometimes I was even naked in the dreams. I hear it’s a fairly common theme, dreaming of the embarrassment of showing up somewhere either with the wrong clothing, or none at all.