Too deep for words

Too deep for words                                                                                    
 
The poems You inspire in others are,
for the most part, anthems of praise. 
 
The poems You give to me are more about
the give and take between the two of us.
 
It’s because I know so little about You! 
Only what You have (in my heart) told me;
 
(in Your silence) have shown me.  Pure praise
seems to be beyond me – the terminology
 
of which only You have any real understanding. 
If You take from me my poetry, I would ask one favor.  

 
Take it by leaving me speechless with wonder,
robbed of comparisons; dazed by Your nearness.  

Let pure praise be denied me still – a blasphemy
breaking the bonds of a Oneness too deep for words.

O child of God, praise of the Christ
is to the spiritual benefit of all.

Heavy equipment

Heavy equipment                                                                    
 
There’s a vineyard within a graveyard;
a Tomb on a Hill built of discarded stones,
 
the bones of a man Who gave Himself
to a world that hurries past now; 
 
the wine from that vineyard, grown  
           in the mandali’s dust,
cinders and bones, intoxicates me.
 
I’ve never completely recovered
           my former sobriety.
I can’t be trusted to walk a straight line
           or operate heavy equipment!
 
I stepped out of the Tomb one morning
           onto uneven terrain.
I don’t know what to do when You strand me like this.
 
If You never come back, I’ll die here –
on the corner where You left me.
 
O child of God, if the Master never returns,
it’s just another way of His keeping His promise.

                               (from A Jewel in the Dust, 2011)

A tender child

A tender child                                                                                            
 
The great fear of death was once for me
the end of self.  Now it’s the resurrection,
 
again and again, from the fields of stone
towards a conscription into battle
 
where the enemy is always myself.
Another lifetime beginning from scratch,
 
far from heaven, a tender child to face anew
the test of mettle, the suffering of desires
 
(met or unmet), to don yet another false suit
of congeniality and compliance while living
 
covertly under the compulsion of human
ignorance, isolation, cowardice and sin.
 
O child of God, the deeper your renunciation,
the nearer you are to His open arms.

The fruit sublime

 
The fruit sublime
 
Climb out farther on the limb,
the utmost ends,
 
where the sublime fruit grows,
only the rare ones eat –
 
assorted birds, extraordinary climbers,
graceful, long-throated beasts.
 
You’ve been rooted too long in the shadows,
settling for the ordinary. 
 
Climb where the limbs splay and sag
under your weight;
know the body’s full price. 
 
Your soul, fed on such fruit, eventually
will leave this entanglement 
 
and with the birds soar
the farthest reaches of the sky.
 
O child of God, you’ll transcend this realm,
when you’ve developed a taste for the fruit sublime.