Friday, July 29, 2016

John 21:15-19

Does your love for me, he asked
Outshine all other loves
And on the beach I heard the seagull cry
And I remembered other birds
After other words spoken before in fear
I love you to the moon and back as far as I can see
Yes, my love, he gently said, and yet
Do you love more than these
Again I heard the seagull cry
I close my eyes
Against past failings
Speech bubbled in my throat
But caught against the swell of sadness
Please, I said, please
Forgiveness immense in His face
But undeserving loud I cried
Yes, I love you as sure as the sun sets and rises
There is a silence and again He says
Child, is your love for me
Greater than any other love?
The third time the seagull cried
And I knew my darkness then
I was filled with the improbability of worth
You know, I wept, you know
I cannot do more
His hand on mine
I accept you, I will build you, he said
Your love is enough, my love will do the rest

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Hearing it Wrong/Meandering

I have serious issues with mind wandering, especially when I'm tired. The following is a result.


In my tendency to anticipate endings
And constant completion of sentences uttered by others
I was convinced he said
She was killed over fifteen times
I practically heard him say this
And I have nothing profound to add
But I think of Prometheus
In his Groundhog Day cycle of death
Till I realize Prometheus never died
And this girl's deaths make him seem tame
Except his pain was forever and hers ended
Over fifteen times
Which of course, begs the question, how far over?
How many times exactly had she died?
Surely we can be more specific than a vague
Over fifteen
And then he is saying "Tora Tora Tora"
And I realize we are at Pearl Harbor
The girl has actually been dead for some time now
Over fifteen years ago


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Saturday, July 23, 2016

Untitled (Gathers)

It's not like I haven't been writing. I just haven't been reading as much poetry so I am less inspired to post it, and somehow I have grown even more picky about what I write. I think I just need to bite the bullet and post what I have anyway. So, here.


"You gather your people" he said, praying
But I thought, more that that you gather
Hearts  broken to bits and scattered to the winds
Serving to masters and neither of them you
Hunting for wholeness trying to love into loveliness
And scrambling from your presence
You gather minds diaspora
Fractured by disease and heartbreak
And sometimes the Martha minds
Busy at home, but you lovingly gather
Even those wrapped in your work
Too wrapped to worship
Still graciously you gather
Make us holy and wholly before you today
I pray