Light

I raise you to the Light

A Light so strong
that He can bend His rays
around you
and illuminate you

A Light so clear
that She can penetrate
the layers heavily curtained
transforming burlap
into lace

I raise you to the Light
that spears your heart
burns your tongue
courses through
your blood
with such sun, moon, starlight
that shadows flee
from the path ahead
and lag behind
until they lose your trail

Be ye enlightened, friend

Raise your sapphire eyes
and allow each of their facets
to catch a piece of Holy
to basque in wretched wonder
to bathe in quiet peace
and to reflect
for all with strength to see.

Let your tearful beacon eyes
reveal the light of hope
burning white hot
within you.

symphony unfinished

What happened to the music
that played between us
wind, string, percussion rich?

Didn't we sense the spirit conducting the song?

Wasn't there a clean and precise drum beat
keeping our pace synchronous

trumpets freeing consciousness
from the need for words

flutes playing in and out of each measure
providing us freedom and frame
for trusting and giving and listening and taking

strings and adagios
weighless
dancing
fearless
jumping
no less
boundless

Wasn't that the tune you heard?

intoxicatingly safe
a symphony of thoughts
without orchestral limits

jazz at it's best
rythmn above count
melody transcending key

a tune that faded to pianisimo
begging me as listener to lean forward

and then resuming in perfect time
memorable enough for me to hum along
yet fresh enough each day
to prompt me to incline eagerly toward the movement

I revelled most in six eight time
marvelled at how it was expressed
and re-expressed
two beats to each measure
or three
or six
sounding similar
feeling new
urgently seeking a beat
any beat
waltz-march-gallop-run

I chased the syncopation
focused intently on the beat
tapped my toe to keep it
immersed myself
in the harmony
without being aware
of how caught up in the song
I'd become

The music fell silent
not a whisper
not a pause

breaths held
hands suspended
I turn to the conductor

was His baton still raised?

No.

The podium stands empty.

Looking Glass

years forward
cobwebs cleared from tarnished mirrors
hand-poured glass over gray-silver
provides partial view of what I know I knew
a distorted reflection
covered in layers of dust undisturbed
wrapped haphazardly in spiderwebs
long since abandoned

safe and patient
wise listeners
weeping friends
soft embraces gently tug away
spider webs
that tied memory to place
to sound
to touch

unbiased, unafraid, unflinching counselor
wipes clean
thick dust like powdered ash
without fear of charred residue marking her hand
she wisks clean the glass on silver
and with chosen words
stern
simple
clear and confident
she directs my eyes to the reflecting glass

how frightening to bring this darkness into day
how can I be made certain
that to focus on this image
won't transport me to that moment
when my mind created dust
ash
cobweb
for the single purpose of survival

the answer is
if nothing else
as weak in reassurance
as it is strong in hope

take a look at the image
in the mirror
and believe

wavy, warped, mis-shapen
as old mirror glass can get
when the gravity of all that seeks to reshape it
overshadows
underemphasizes
convex overblown
and concave understabilized

this distortion typified the image I beheld
small threats were magnified
sources of safety, hidden
nothing rational or logical or sensible
or smart
could be revealed
and addressed
and explained

until reality was wielded
by making straight and sharp
each surface
and of course
by choosing
to look
at the image

my greatest fear
is of my own reaction
to the puzzle
as it is solved

What Have I Done

From the security of my own ash heap
I heard your cry
and assumed it was your reaching
from the security of your own
rubble, debris, refuse
for my words
ear
touch

I spoke without filtering
every thought
every sentiment
not taking any time
to brush off dirt and ashes
not being careful
oh my God
not being careful enough
with my own heart
I listened intently
or so I thought
but in my eagerness to serve you
to heal you
to console you
to comfort you
I finished your sentences
I filled spaces you might
have revealed

had I waited

and my spirit
awake, attentive
stirring within my heart
rushed to find you

without even pausing for practical thought
without using words to announce
or listening for invitation
my being
skin on flesh on bone
physical driven by emotional
my very self
all of me
hurled forward
to seek you out and find you

something strong
wanted deeply to see your face
to tap away tears
to offer shoulder, hand
just to brush away
your sadness
and deliver comfort

as eager as I was
to be attentive
I somehow failed to pay
close attention

for the gate around your own trash heap
which was surely open
when you called out
began to close quickly
when I announced my approach

for some reason you fear my approach

how ridiculous of me to push
with such intensity
while at the same time
baring my heart
which could only
have frightened you
more

and so now
only minutes
from rising out of ashes
brushing myself off
sending words of comfort
half-listening
(that's where I must have erred most)
and running towards
the sound of your voice

I must return
with only the memory
of my words and yours
hands still reaching
in your direction

this pile of ashes
is so much dirtier
and drearier
having taken time away
and now returning

We Meet Again

And so we meet again
here.

I know in my older, more confident, bigger self
that we aren't just meeting
that You've been by my side

But my weary, smaller self
has perceived You
as larger than everyday life.
Outside my circle,
Beyond my reach,
Too majestic
and too far away
to touch.

So, like I said
we meet now
again
first time
new place

You were just inside the front door
with a face very much like mine.
Soft, somewhat sad.
Eyes that welcomed.
You pointed to the living room
and chuckled
"isn't every room a living room?"

Much living here
much talk about living
the point of it
the need for it.

Here we go again!

More work to do
in Africa.

Your message to me this time?
How should I respond?
I recall You insisting
that I cannot do this.
So now?

I will sit back and restrain
my hands
and voice
and heart
from taking on this new need
as if it were mine to take.

The Difference in One Day

What a difference a day can make.

I follow many of yesterday's paths

I've enjoyed the quiet.
I can hear my own thoughts
almost as if the wind
and rustling trees
and rusty trains
and rippling
emerald green
splashed water
were echoing the words
without me even speaking them.


And I think
I hesitate at the word "think"

I sense

Yes,that's the word

I sense that You have begun
to enter my silent space

I look around me
peak after peak after majestic peak

How silly of me
to sense You only now.


You began this space
There wasn't any need for You to enter it


OK, so my silent space
must be one and the same
with this space
around me Holy
my silent space
has been void of Holy


probably not because You left altogether.


I must have brushed You into a corner
and painted You
the corner
empty
gone.


I do recall not so long ago
telling You
yelling You
pleading for an answer

I CAN'T DO THIS

You said You already knew that


I can't


You said that "THIS" isn't for me to do
You said"let go of THIS"
"get out of the way of THIS"
You said that You are in charge of THIS


not me.


At that time
I didn't necessarily want You to agree
with my conclusion
that I couldn't do "this"


Maybe I wanted You instead
to boost me up with courage
to bundle me up with strength
to tell my simply
that I could.


I wanted to fix the world
I wanted to make everything better
I wanted to displace every angry, jealous, hurtful, hateful, violent pain
with peace.


The problem
(You know this already)
was that I had
I have
no peace
to trade for all the pain.

So I couldn't do "this"
because "this" was carrying, fixing, and erasing all the world's anger.


There was little chance of me
fixing a world-size problem.


When You said, "I know you can't"
I thought You were saying
that such problems
should be left
to more powerful forces
than me.

I thought you were saing that I needed to give You
these world-size problems
because You are much better suited
for "world-size".

Maybe that was part of Your message.
But the other part was hidden.

Until now.

The reason I can't do this
is that I first need to create a space
within me
for peace

Collect enough of it
and dispose of enough anger and shame
that I have something to give.

If my heart only holds sadness
than the world won't benefit much.

Draw Me Closer

Surrounded by You
everywhere I look
every direction
You.

Grand
Breathtaking
Larger than life

and yet

Much further away
than it might appear.

So much further
Beautiful but untouchable

I think if I could take the height
the steep slope
with no foothold
I would climb for days and days
but still
You would rise up from the distance.

You present Yourself
with that breathtaking grandeur
more beautiful than anything
but so very untouchable.

Is this how Moses felt
in your fiery presence
entranced by your beauty
but burned by your touch?

Is this how You want me to feel
if I were listening as closely
as I wish I could?

Would Your whispers be like wind
sending messages
from mystery
rather than from certainty

This had to be the last place
the best place
the only place
beside You.

Draw me closer
for You are too far away
and I'm having difficulty
hearing
feeling
knowing
trusting
understanding
believing You.

Please draw me closer in
so that I can hear, feel, know, trust, understand, and believe

the way I did when I first fell in love with You.