River of Strength

There is no one else to follow Lord,

All the kings of this earth are fallen,

Not one is free from deceit and greed!

 

The steeple bells do not ring of Your good news Lord,

Many shepherds have disregarded you as Truth,

Oh but there is a River of Strength that makes gladness

 

I will follow the gladness of your River for she is strong

she is unshaken by destruction and her water strengthens  like honey

there is no other path to follow but she flows to your Throne

 

Gravity feels heavier…

Photo by Victor Freitas

I am breathing underwater and not wondering how

I am praying to be rescued but not sure if the time is now

Gravity feels heavier than it use to but in the water I am weightless

I can no longer hear the angry world and could not care less

You are so close I can hear but not touch you

You are The Holy One well acquainted with Truth

Paris in the 30’s

Photo by Flo Dahm on Pexels.com

I want to be in Paris in the thirties

in a coffee house with painters and poets

Like Laurel Canyon sixties songs

the music echoes all day and night

The morning rain showers, the afternoon sun

Warm canvases of yellows and melons horizons

The evening light of the Eiffel Tower glitters

The night is showered with city sights

I want to be in Paris in the thirties

And write the poetry that rattles in my head

Like a song on an old phonograph

I am dancing in the shadows until morning takes flight

Room Full of Mirrors

crop person hand in broken mirror

Photo by Bruno Pires on

She is standing in a room full of mirrors.

She is all the people she was taught to be.

A good little girl who prays and is kind.

A pretty girl as much as she can be.

A smart girl but not too smart for men.

She is all the people she was taught to be.

Yet somehow, she is none of these.

Mirrors are liars.

Mirrors crack and shatter.

She is a woman of humility and wisdom.

She is a reflection of her Maker.

She does not need mirrors anymore.

Island of Genius

It is a misfit’s address

Photo by Clive Kim

An island of genius

A mystery of progress

The glitter of astrocytes between us

The mundane to the brilliant

From the axon to infinity

Never to be explained away

The music of the genius plays

I don’t trust you but I’ll try you…

pexels-photo-134020.jpeg

Photo by Zukiman Mohamad

He smiled with no malice when I said, “I don’t trust you but I’ll try you rather than stay the way I am.”

 “Well, at least your honest,” he replied adding, ” I can work with that. “

So, this man had a sense of humor and his eyes danced like chocolate stars.

His face was not handsome and his hands looked rough and scarred.

There was a warmth and strength in his voice that I’d never heard before.

A sound of gentle peace fell before me like a tide pool near the shore.

We must have walked for hours but I was not tired or worn.

He  told me every single thing I had ever done before.

I cannot express with words the happening.

A wonder of  transformation began to form.

I was then and then I was new and I trust Him forevermore.

 

 

Dawn Treader (a tribute)

aerial photo of water waves

Photo by Magda Ehlers 

She could take no more time looking back.

The Light was brighter and then the brightest.

She heard singing in another language so majestic, and she knew it was the Song of The Highest.

The water clear and sweet and no salt was in the Sea, and every refraction of light shone like jewels.

She knew it was not the Old Earth any longer.

No shadows or darkness could still linger.

She threw off her sword  for there was no need of weapons

She was in the King’s Country at last!

There were many who could accuse her…

 

assorted colors rocks

Photo by Ir Solyanaya 

There were many who could accuse her, she knew it was the law.

The very men who used her now want to see her stoned.

She remembers how it started, so hungry and alone.

She rode the tide of shame and commerce, with nowhere else to go.

She heard about the Holy man healing all the sick.

They said he spoke of God’s love for all, even those who have no hope.

So now she stood before Him and prepared herself to die.

He then wrote something  in the dirt and gazed up into her eyes

And said, “no man here can accuse you and neither do I.”

Oh the washing of her soul a deluge fell that holy day,

and she followed Him from that time on, He is The Truth, The Life, The Way!

Her breathing is God singing…

christ the redeemer

Photo by Matheus Bertelli 

 

Her tiny toddler body lays wrapped against mine.

Her breathing is God singing, His Love her sigh.

No guile no malice no doubt or fear.

Her precious hands show me God is near.

She whispers my name as she falls asleep.

Never a sweeter word has been spoken to me.

My heart could burst open when I smell her sweet head.

If there is a treasure on earth more than this I choose this song instead.