Daily there are new hits

ancient antique armor armour

Photo by Maria Pop on Pexels.com

Daily there are new hits.

The death toll rising and no place to sit,

at the table of commerce there is hunger and doubt.

Some will be let in but so many left out.

 

So  a new reality is here.

In whom will I trust and whom will I fear?

Will people be kind and help s to the bleeding?

My country is dying and my soul is grieving.

 

Decency and kindness are being crucified!

No one tells the truth, the media is all lies!

My soul is crying in the long dark night!

Deliver us oh God with your Holy light!

 

Never let it be said of this patriot here,

that she ever gave up her country so dear!

Let her be remembered as a woman who prayed,

“In God we trust until the end of days!”

 

 

 

The Shell Seeker

 

 

brown sand

Photo by Miri

Standing on the highest sand dune people moved back and forth on the ground below.  She no longer has their youthfulness of an unlined face but she knew she finally possessed the joy of ageless Grace. The pilgrimage called her to this beautiful place. The wind and the sun an old friend on her face.

Now she is the shell seeker in the wide brimmed hat, as a child playing in the sun she’d laughed at people like that. She remembers younger  days when she grew weary but now the days of peace are what linger here.  Emotions don’t obey the rules they are the heartbeat in being human.  Like waves reaching the shore emotions can be kept for a moment but are better when given away.

The shell seeker’ s eye remains clear and adept while watching the children play. She knows that life is not going back but more of giving it away. The Truth is, life consists in learning and loving well with Grace underneath God’s sun.  To remain whole in the midst of life’s ups and downs, to surrender all secrets and lies is anointing oil to the soul. To shed insincerity and live in the present, the waves echo behind her now compelling her to go on.

Everything that used to be solid

silhouette of two person

Photo by Trung Nguyen

 

Everything that used to be solid is suddenly fluid.

The mid-afternoon sky the color of hammered gold

Waves of heat rising from the horizon looks like water only to find a hard rock road

I do love living where the Sky is bigger

Somehow it feels tedious to have too many trees above

If I don’t know you then I don’t know anybody

It is like waiting to touch the bottom of a bottomless well

Tipping Day

a person with foot up in the air

Photo by João 

 

The sun has slanted across the sky

thoughts scroll through my mind then fly

That precise sliver in time

 

The see-saw is tipping to the down side

I slam and am jolted by the sand in my eyes

Suddenly a week seems like a lifetime

 

I know I never really controlled my world

The lie in my head where I thought I was safe

but being found in Christ I am not forsaken.

 

 

 

The drums of lies touting of a merry hell

 

broken drumstick close up dark dirty

Photo by abednego ago

The drums of lies beating through the night city swells.

The lies touting of a merry Hell.

Hardened  in heart pursuing only self, dancing to the tune of gaining  wealth.

When day dawns over the city’s night all will be blinded by the Holy Light.

The drums are lying, darkness takes your life.

For Hell can’t be merry and is not the tale of fairies!

 

 

 

 

 

Cassidy or the Sundance Kid?

ancient antique art black and white

Photo by Steve on Pexels.com

 

Cassidy or the Sundance Kid;

the master manipulator or

the quiet deadly one instead?

One in it for himself

the other needs the thrill.

One is the master mind

The other taking what he will.

I have known all kinds of men

and time has shown me well.

A man is either  Cassidy or  the Sundance Kid

as time will surely tell.

Home

people sitting on the edge of a cliff

Photo by Angelo Duranti

Her passion is tender.

Her pain is massive.

Her mind is lithe and quick.

Her body is no longer as swift.

 

Her temple once was a house of cards,

built by her birth, her fear, and her works.

Now she stands on the rock called Jesus

careful to follow him with her cross.

 

A new temple foundation built,

she is sure of this The Holy One.

He makes all things new with his Holy breath,

and will lead her in both life and death…

Home.

Get the Kill Shot (based on a true story)

man in camouflage army uniform holding rifle

Photo by Kony Xyzx

 

She has been hiding here for almost three days…she is basically lying in a sewer. The smell and wetness don’t affect her anymore. To get the shot she must not move. The target is hiding out in a bombed out building. She didn’t eat, barely sipped enough water to stay alive and wore basically a diaper for urine. She has had very little solid food in her so her bowels did not move…she stayed hydrated and that is key but if the shot took much longer she would inevitably grow weaker. One time she stayed in a position for six days…recovery was rough. She would need intravenous fluids after this and a push of vitamins and electrolytes as well but she knew her body and she knew her window of time and the clock was running.
She is well camouflaged by a versatile cape that also provided some protection from rain and dampness. Her small frame is every inch muscle. She is tall and lean. Her rifle is wrapped in strips of burlap and tied down with yarn to ensure no reflection from the sun. To be a good sniper you simply must have common sense. It is a matter of fact. What is the distance to the target? How will gravity influence the bullet across its travel distance? What are the wind conditions? Is the target moving? Is the target getting too comfortable with his hiding place and becoming less vigilant? If the target is moving, how fast is his speed? Most people believe being a good sniper is all about control and having the best rifle but she begged to differ. She believed it all came down to what she believed about herself, about what she knows she is capable of, and what she is willing to do to get “the shot” the first time. She does “know” her rifle intimately however. It is like a part of her body. She knows the rifles scope like she knows her husband. She is precise about everything. Being the best sniper involves making decisions in the split of a millisecond and knowing it is the right decision without question. She is able to slow her mind. She thinks “I am one with this sewer, I am sound. By the time you hear it and try to process it, it’s too late because I am already gone.”
Yes she is a woman. She is a soldier. She is a Special Forces soldier. She is here to serve her country. She does not worry about PTSD or being raped by anyone. Those are the only subjects most of the world like to talk about when it comes to women in the military. She has never been disrespected by male soldiers and she has never disrespected a male soldier. Her calling is to be the best soldier she can be and she is a good one. She is an even better sniper. She will not hesitate to kill the enemy. She does not count her kills but she has never regretted even one of them. She has saved the lives of hundreds of soldiers by doing her job and being the best. She is a daughter, sister, wife, and mother. She is a woman. She is brave and she is one of the elite in her field. She is part of a controversy, not by her choice, in America regarding women in the military but she will carry on because her country needs her. She is paving the way for other smart determined women soldiers. She has counted the cost and is willing to pay the cost. She is an American hero…ahhh, here is the moment, the millisecond has arrived, and she takes the shot…it is done.