Photo by Musa Ortaç
Shadow Boxer
glitters like gold!
Shapeshifter lies
have all been told!
His candy is poison
but sure taste sweet!
He shadow boxes
down on Deception Street!
Shadow Boxer betrays
with silver, he stole!
His beauty hides his
evil lust for control!
oh your fall from the heavens
like a burning star
shook the deep of this earth
what a falling was there!
Photo by Ashutosh Jaiswal
Truth has stumbled into darkened streets.
Honesty no longer matters in our media elite.
Truth is not to each his own.
Truth is Jesus Christ alone.
Photo by Ricardo Esquivel
Have you ever had the strange sensation of having traveled off the map of your own existence?
It is like moving in a mysterious land where you only know a smattering of words in that language and feel so far removed from your core being.
Some scholars call this some kind disorder of adjustment but I disagree.
I find this to be a time of challenge and exuberance in this journey.
A bigger lens through which to view the magnificence of this great pilgrimage, from the cradle to the grave and beyond…
then just as quietly or quickly some sound or smell or jolt of love for someone brings me back home.
I am now standing in my familiar dimension and even though I do not feel totally whole in this earth shell…
I know that I belong here for now until I know that I don’t anymore.
…And you will know the Truth, and the Truth will set you free.” John 8:32
Photo by Frans Van Heerden
The fabric we cling to so tightly that isn’t God, must break down
Our own coveted resources, our lifeboats all drowned
Though it may be beautiful fabric we have weaved
the failure of our remedies to control must be relieved
For that is when the Lord speaks…
Photo by Pixabay
I cannot keep trying to impress you
or manipulate what you think of me
it matters very little in the Truth of my identity.
To anticipate if you to like my verse
or if you’ll sing my tune or see my worth
all is Vanity and Vanity is a curse.
To know a person one must be true it is said
So do what you will and think what you think
It is only just words on paper with ink.
Photo by Andreas Wohlfahrt
Like a cloud scattered by a strong wind
All illusions of security have blown away
So now I must stand on the Faith I have professed
In The One that keeps me in his sight!
All illusions of control are laid bare
Idols crumble like sand castles in the air
Gratitude has pierced my soul
It leads me to The Cross of His might!
Palms up, letting go, cleaning the house of my soul
Rhetoric and cliches must be purged in the clutter
Returning to the purity of being His Child
I still Trust in Him, the Lover of my soul, who has already won this fight!
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.
Photo by Nadi Lindsay
Wisteria vines will grow on walls, over other plants and along the weathered splintered gray fence that is long forgotten. The vine of Wisteria is thick and knarled and strong…
The fragrance of the low hanging purple clumps of flowers permeated the bright spring day and it made her feel lightness in her heart that she had not experienced in a long while. She thought about how precious her memories of first love are. There in lies the treasure. It is in the pleasure and the pain…if you allow it, first love leads to the Truth that we know nothing much of love.
She is older now and reflects back often on what she thought love was as a young woman or rather perhaps she was simply in love with what she thought love was. She loved but then she lived. In that living she learned that love is tough as nails. Love is knarled like the Wisteria vine. Love will grow over barriers and around obstacles still blooming and still fragrant. Love is having the strength to stay. Love is a wild and furious risk, a pouring out of all that one can from that cup and drink it. Love is rich and poor. Love is sickness and health. Love is a verb, an action word. Nothing about love is passive. Love cannot be manipulated. Love. Risks. Everything. The Holy God is Love’s name…ponder this, ponder Him…you will find Him because Love never quits and perfect Love cast out all fear and Love never ever fails.
Photo by Magda Ehlers
I saw fields of cotton white as snow
as blood red drops flowed down and soaked
those cotton fields and the earth below.
Yes the Blood dripped down on the cotton bolls.
As the Louisiana sun beat down that day
in June of 64 three boys came to say
we want to help you learn to vote
but they were shot down and the cotton was soaked.
Blood of black men drip down so slow
from the cottonwood tree the bodies swinging low
No one would help them, they were all alone
and the sun went down on the bloody cotton bolls.
Photo by cottonbro
I don’t know why they call it Good Friday
Beaten, naked and hung upon a tree.
No one to love you, not even God
A rejection never to be known by me.
Devastating penalty that Goodness might be.
It should be called ” the love note from God” day…
Jill Autrey Dorman 