The lines have fallen
In pleasant places
My path has drawn up
Right again
Praise the Lord, for He is faithful
His mercy endures forever
He draws our pathways
From the foundation of the earth
And though we stray and tarry
He draws us right again
building burdens on our own backs
we groan under distressing weight
till someone comes and takes it from us
we do not know where we have been
Sitting dismayed at the sacrifice
required to enter in
We weep when we do not realize
Someone’s already been
What I must give up
Is what is not good for me
What I must at all costs carry
is the gold I do not recognize
Nothing strains like the burden
of a backward vision
My life would be joy for me
if I could get my world turned right
God grant me grace
to see my own sinning
my problem is not my pain
but my misapprehension
*The whole earth is filled
With the Glory of God*
-Is 6:3
You do not protect me
From the pain of my life’s troubles
You lead me in the way of danger
That I may cling to You
I cling to You relentlessly
Like a weaned child to its mother
Not pulling, sucking, striving . . .
I am at peace
You are my Peace
When there is every sign of danger
You are my Satisfaction
When Wanting comes my way
I trust in You
My Shepherd-Friend
You know how I try to be
I wear my heart on the outside of my breast
That anyone who wants can see and criticize it
That any man may wound me
That, as best I can, I may be touched by anyone
That my Father may be pleased
My heart is not my own
To protect as others do
I do not know the way of it
It belongs unto my King
To use as He sees fit
May my meditations yet be pleasing
Unto You
The evening is longer than the morning
Yet it seems so short
Because we compare it to the rest of day.
At dawn we forget the darkness
Until the grass is dry,
When the waxing turns to wane,
We see it, and remember,
And curse the dying day
Not because we hate twilight
But, “Too soon! Too soon!” we say.
Whether it be summer or midwinter
“Too soon! Too soon!” we always say.
Once upon a time, upon a little hill in the middle of nowhere, stood a little blond-headed girl about the age of thirteen. And although she probably had any number of faults, there was one that stood out terribly to her: She loved. She loved with a terrible fierceness of devotion and passion that at times her whole body shook with the emotion. And perhaps this would not have seemed so terrible except for this one slight inconsistency: She loved, but she did not know who. Continue reading “Requited Love”
The lion looked at me with a gleam in his eye.
“Will you come in?”
He looked like some Egyptian monument; his haunches reached up as much as forty feet; his head was twice as tall as me. Settling down on his belly, he placed his head near the ground before me, and opened wide his mouth.
I thought of every enchanted treasure-house I had ever heard of. Aladdin’s cave, the open tree with the dog guardians with eyes as big as plates and saucers, holes in the ground, and leprechauns. Stable, fixed, every one of them. This creature, though, once I was inside of him, could travel anywhere. He was no stone lion. He was living; I could feel him breathing.
“If I go in, can I come out again?”
“Perhaps.” Continue reading “Unseen Treasures”
“Here. Hold your hands like this: in a cupped position. Look into them. Now, what do you see?”
“I see my hands.”
“Look closer. What do you see?”
“I see . . . Fingers. Skin. Nails . . .”
“Look closer. What do you see?”
“I see . . . Lines. Crisscrossing lines and cracks . . .”
“Stop. Close your eyes. Open your heart. Now. What do you see?” Continue reading “First Lesson”
Would you believe to know me
That once I was lost
Would you believe to know me
That I gave up everything
At the foot of the cross
Would you believe to know me
That once I was the blackest sinner
Stained with every crime
Would you believe to know me
That Jesus saved my life
I was destitute and hopeless
Waiting for the end
I was crouching in my pain and turmoil
Longing for a friend
And as I sat there hopeless
Clinging to my shame and guilt
I saw a promise rising – Risked everything to grab it –
And now I stand here broken
Would you believe to know me
That I could live?
Here lie some broken lines of poetry
Some seem to rhyme
Some do not
Gathered here they were
by a careless hand
Who threw them out
as fast as seed on the wind
Hush! who knows?
Perhaps they shall take root
and grow into something useful
beet back the maize
of labyrinthine wordplays
And come at last to an open place
of quiet meaning
Or they may be eaten
by some mindless creatures
cracked upon the rocks
But I will not be someone
who cares about the consequence of words
Let them fly free and who knows
One word may yet change a Nation
neumatikos 