aware

schooled out
a master class
in the frailty of flesh
with much wisdom
comes humiliation
(or maybe the other way around)
nature speaks
volumes
I can’t keep up
with the reading
but know the themes
enough to fake it
through the tests
pass
fail
all these glaring dualities—
wanting more time
that I mostly piss away
thirsting for grace
that I drown in works
(or, worse, plans for them)
waxing knowledge
waning strength
railing, wailing, flailing alone
with connections all around

I can’t walk for tripping
over the stumps
of my thinning forest

stand against the march of time
or get in line

June 2011

provision

the banquet prepared
hope is on the table
I must pick it up

June 2011

on mission

woe to her
if she does not lay down
her life for her friends

woe to her
if she does not test
their loyalty
through an overflow
of unrequested giving

woe to her
if she neglects
the thousand kindnesses
she is compelled to offer:
notes, calls, meals, visits,
job tips, professional advice,
a listening ear
affection
attention

woe to her
if her pouring out
fails to keep pace
with her sacred welling up

woe to her
if she learns
to precondition
her unconditional love

woe to her
if she allows
the predictable letdown
from the recipients
of her tireless, gracious acts
to thwart her divine mission

this precious, rare, warm
glowing light
that God
in His good wisdom
and strange providence
has, against the logic
of human interaction,
undeniably lit
let no man
or woman
or stranger
or misunderstanding friend
ever snuff out

woe to a world
without her
doing what
she was made
and is being made
and comes perfectly natural
and joyful
and painful
to do

May 2011

dawn forage

peering over the second deck
at a groundhog wandering for food
nibbling at the plentiful weeds
and newly grown grass
unaware in his earnest,
prosaic necessary task
of my silent still observance

I wonder who is more at home

May 2011

mat

on the mat
grappling with a competitor
I didn’t expect to be so strong
so nimble
so impervious to my tactics
(my pitiful, predictable repertoire)
he saw every move coming
now I flail to defend
straining, sweating
one shoulder down
impossibly fast
my reliable wind failing
it occurs to me:
I may not win this
I may be forced to concede
and what does that look like?
is it a defeat
or am I being trained?
is it even possible to lose?
what is really on the line?
what colors do I represent?
if I didn’t righteous my way in
how could I heresy my way out?

can a big love
a soul-swallowing grace
blow up the supports
for this old house
and build something new
in its place?
can I submit to this?
is there a win
in this pin
for me?
can I accept
throwing out the old rulebook
can I live with
and happily pursue
a game
everybody wins?

about to find out

March 2011