When From A Talent Show A Gem

Your modulated voice,
unknown until now,
emerges from darkness,
ocean waves
in a rising tide,
from rolling deeps,
swelling in and out of caves
on a quiet Summer noon,
heaving with the heart
that knows private sorrows,
opens the tomb
at the urgent entrant cue to live,
and Lazarus comes forth
unbound,
the dead, alive,
the lost, redeemed,
so it is to me
when you deeply inhale,
close your eyes,
open your mouth,
your music emerges
from everywhere,
and only you.

BE

Every word is the fractal
Of a poem,
And the poem,
Whatever its mineral,
Vegetable, gender or personality,
Is a  fractal
Of the one divine  word
BE,
The single fractal word of God.

Simple Faith

There is a faith so simple
a slab of leather
may be lifted down,
as in a dusty library
one lifts down a precious
one hundred year old volume,
unlay the buttery golden folds,
cut and stitch by hand,
by lamplight if one must,
until a radiant pair of boots
fairly leaps from the bench alive,
eager to rush headlong out
to bless a barefoot world.

The Diminishes

              I
The Spirit and the Word
Commune together,
Diminish the one,
You diminish the other.

Diminish in word what mind abhors,
Then diminished is  hearing what Spirit implores.
                  II
The fear of the Lord
Is the beginning of wisdom.
Diminish by degrees  the fear,
Then diminished,  wisdom will disappear.

Because
What a man first assumes
He will finally conclude:

His first diminished assumption,
About the Staggeringly Awesome Whoever,
Even after much study and thought ,
Approval of peers,
Degrees won, books written,
Diminished it is at conclusion,

Smaller universe a smaller understanding drives,
And diminished, all our lives.

Shadows

Sudden shadow of a hawk
Silences twittering
Sparrows

Some darting fly
Into foilage of denser trees
Others simply freeze

Sudden shadow of winter
Falls on my fallow field
Startled I measure
Mentally my pantry shelves
Empty space by thistles
My summer’s yield

And so when you died
The shadow of your passing
My startle
My freeze

Suddenly fruitful fields
Beckoning trees
Juggling trade
So futile seems

My soul sorts
Her traveling clothes
Chooses
Godly themes.

Mary Magdalene

     
How full to overflow
this world is with your woe!

you saw Jesus seeing you
not as you were, but
restored and whole
dawning
as the yellow sun rises
on a new day

when He looked like that at you
His love could harmless swallow
toxic leaf and poison berry
of all the worlds betrayal

but what do I understand
there is a blight on this land

indiscreet
you washed his feet
in public with your tears
and dried them
with your long and flowing
graceful hair

gone were the sneers
bitter ironic laugh
biting retort of other years

gone old relationships stranded
on slime rocks
with junkyard dogs
goading and teasing
to vulnerability
then sudden emasculation
by deft symbolic slash

anyone thus disqualified
could take a temporary wife

but with this Jesus
you were undone
pattern broken
shards bursting
with new-pattern life

yet, when He so untimely died
were you not tempted to think
He had left you like all the others?

you hung around the garden tomb
you saw Him Easter morning
but thought He was the gardener
“where did they put His body?”
you asked

He spoke your name “Mary”
you melted “Raboni”
and worshipped Him
“Don’t touch me yet,” He said
“First I must go to our Father”

I know now
that’s how you knew
holding loves promise
He was yours
forever yours.

By His Life He Prayed

Jesus prayed-
Did he not bleeding pray-
"Father,
Save these my people;
If they are saved,
I am saved,
If they are lost,
I am lost."

From The Field

You drew me forth,
Planted me,
Then moved on
To another planet,
Another row,
One in a field of red tulips
Offered to the sky.

I found a rhythm in your words,
Lord of King James,

Rhythm in the tide of tears
That rises from earth deep
Through my roots
And spills,

Reckless rises fragrant golden oil
And red squandered blood.

At night
I am a censor swinging
among singing stars.

You Make My Days

You make my days to sail
On tranquil seas,
You send me messages
Of hope and love from far,
Bread is always on my table,
(Sometimes by the charity
Of your ravens)
My catastrophes
You always redeem,
My fears you melt away,
No wonder I pull torn curtains
Round my heart,
Kneel before the holy of holies
And pray.

Mystery

           
Remember your mystery,
O my soul,
the toxic swamps,
your dirty hands,
their splintered nails,
cankerous warts on scaled skin,
shoeless feet below torn clothes,
mucus bloody-webbed
encrusted toes,
your heart an adder’s egg,
leathery, alive, unburst,
and always the distant
baying of pursuing hounds
with lusty thirst,
the law, its focused swords
untempered intent---
yes, someone knows
where you’ve been,
what you’ve done,
where you went.

A hopeless case,
yet a carpenter homeless,
a penniless Jew,
took your place,
down river in his coffin you escaped,
instead, pursuing law buried its hungry sword
with all the justified anger of God
in his offered side.

In your place he died,
but death could not hold such power and love,
at the beach where you stranded
was he waiting with fish and fire,
burst open your wooden tomb,
at supper your life began again,
as his:
your redeemer, brother, mystery friend.