Blueness

Blueness Six million dead and the blueness of a wound, scars in the inward parts, is there a blueness to revive us? None. But the bruises of a perfect lamb chastised for peace, for justice, for mercy. His blue bruises mingled with scarlet cleanses white, weightless white. See hidden here in the prophets’piercing pages of…

Secret Cove

Secret Cove The barren season moves with stealth behind the scenes of autumn, steadily edging toward the razor cold and lacy veil of ice and crystal. Then suddenly she falls, winter’s glorious mystique reveals in a day. In sparkling white layers, she manifests and penetrates deeper than surface chill and snowdrift for earth and sea…

Handel

Handel He never considered for a second the standing ovations, the wild applause, the tears of joy, the years of popular longevity, or the glorious manifest presence of the living God. Tattered velvet slippers shuffling upon the cold stone floor at midnight, he frantically searched by candlelight for inkwell, pen, and paper trying to pace…

Three Stands

Three Strands Before the Lord returns, three strands will entwine to prepare the way. The practice of Sabbath rest, the table of hospitality, and the altar of repentance. This braided cord will gather us to each other and Him. It is the strangers road to Calvary nestled within the walls of our homes–our sharpest tool…

Calculating Age

Age is that hard cold number that starts out too hot to touch and cools through the passing of seasons. It’s that thing you show off with sheepish glow and pride at two and a half and wave with banners and glitter at 21. Then the magic number pops up and you grab it to…

Justice

Justice Society demands vengeance but cannot bear justice, requires morality but cannot stand faultless under a searchlight, expects order but despises authority, screams for open borders and the acceptance of the tired, poor huddled masses yearning to be free but won’t share a meal and offer a bed to a stranger in need. We are…

A New Poem

A New Poem I love a new poem that I must read over and over. First run is a foreign language, but as I go through the words one by one— turning them over and over, weighing, measuring, giving them the tender respect they deserve—then the phrases, metaphors, similes, word spacings, and stanza breaks, it…

Peering into the Dark

Peering into the Dark Friends and family line up orderly, row by row, to pay respect to the widow’s dead husband. Each peers and pauses with reverence. But the corpse is a mirror, reflecting every mourner’s face. That glimpse into the grave is deep and dark and universal, but only for a second. You can’t…

Barely Smelling Bacon

Barely Smelling Bacon Out on the lake’s edge in the blackness of a remote mountain cabin, she sits straight up in bed peering into the dark and blinking to see better. A creature is shuffling on the rocks outside, rummaging, and brushing against the outside log walls. Then scratching, is it the sound of claws…