flute song, easter morning

to the top of the hill i will walk
to the top of the hill i will walk

as the sun rises
the call stirs my heart

to the top of the hill i will walk

among the tall cedars
with roots in the tombstones

to the top of the hill i will walk

the graves of my people
your people, His people

to the top of the hill i will walk

one day i will lie here
at peace in the sunrise

to the top of the hill i will walk

songs of the morning
will break forth in glory

to the top of the hill i will walk

in shadows of crosses
i'll worship forever

to the top of the hill i will walk
to the top of the hill i will walk

wasted

Dang.
A batch of
lottery tickets
on the sidewalk,
losers every one,
apparently.
Coulda bought cigarettes
AND a twelve-pack.
What a waste!

@ you, Lions Den

The verdict has been read,
the sentence passed.

My fingers trace the noose
against dark heavens,
my eyes blur with deep
if undefined
emotion.

In thought, in prayer,
in the precious name of Jesus
I settle the loop around the neck
of this squirming pestilence;
in heart, in mind I draw it tight,
cutting off blood, oxygen,
life.

Yet mixed with foul laughter,
enticing words still burble
from those sin-stained lips!

Left to my own devices
I would have stopped it
years ago, dropped
the accursed body
through the trap door
straight to hell.

Clearly, it is not my hand
gripping the lever,
not my ears
waiting for the signal.

Clearly, it is not my heart
mourning for the lost.

return

What? Do you find it surprising,
this darkness and confusion?
Did you think
going your own way
- and don't feign innocence -
would not lead you away
from the God of light and love?
Did you think
you could sin with impunity
and live?

He grants a return. Make haste.

What? Do you find it surprising?
Did you think
His heart would harden
and His mercy fade?
Did you think
His love could ever fail
just because yours does?

small o

All the stars of the universe
could float like specks of dust
in the "o" of God, even if He used
His smallest font. -- Fellow Worker

seen from within

I find chief among my sins
the desire -
and how many are the ways
in which it manifests itself -
the desire to separate myself
from these conditions of life;
the very conditions into which
my God has placed me
for my ultimate blessing,
my needed correction,
my destined perfection.

Is this, then, finally -
this impatient endurance -
the crucifixion of the flesh?