"Lost"

(Ash Wednesday 2011)

The push and pull
Tugging, yanking, jerking
Fibers of the soul.

The longing, the desire
Enticing, deceiving
As in a smoky haze.

Blurred photograph,
Faded newspaper clipping
Juxtaposed to

Scarlet roses, diamonds
The sweetest taste of
Chocolate on the tongue.

Inch by inch stepping
Deeper into the wood
The path is wholly lost.

"Wandering through the rain"

(Composed January 3, 2011).

Wandering through the rain
Desperately seeking to find
The way, the path
Seems to have sunk
Beneath my feet, hidden
In the haze.  Sunlight or
Moonlight behind cloud,
I know not whether it is night
Or day.  The dim, grey ambiguity
Disguises what was once clear.

Lost in limbo, the liminal,
Unsettled, uneasy, uneven,
Tottering on the tippy top,
Shaking, swaying side to side,
Unable to stabilize, steady, secure

Eyes in the mud.

No mere flub or flounder,
But failing, falling
Flat.

Yet redemption even here
In the ground is found,
Washing clean.
Black is recognized as black,
White shines purest once more,
And men no longer look as trees.

"Commuting"

(Composed upon returning home
Wednesday, August 25, 2010).

Commuting...there is always traffic,
Especially now Imperial Highway
Is littered with orange cones and
Seemingly spawning caterpillars.
Slow signs label the lanes and
Road construction ahead forebode
Blinkers and barrage of break lights,
Beeping car horns, and blare of rap.

The car ahead cuts into the right lane
Nearly colliding with my neighbor.
"Crazy driver!" I mutter aloud.

Light turns red and I'm stopped
Diagonally behind the Pontiac;
Its back window quickly lowers,
Expecting flash of a singular digit.
Instead, it simply rolls up again.
Reaching the top, it descends once more,
Then rolling upward, tiny fingers appear
Over the edge, skipping 'cross glass,
Playfully following the window's trek,
Flitting as a butterfly among buds,
Soaring and diving as a seaside pelican
Above the waves at San Pedro harbor.
Chuckling to myself and wiggling my
Fingers, as they rest on the windowsill.

Light turns to green and we once more
Crawl forward, as once annoying cones
Transport to first grade soccer practice,
Dump trucks to hearty preschool play.

"He offers his hand"

(June 26, 2010).

Exiting the glittering hall
Heatedly I scurry into the cool air
Alone at the last bell's ring

Cobblestones form the path
Slowing, I carefully select each step
So as to protect my treasured shoes
When I notice him across the lawn
He has followed me outside

Ashamed I turn away
Momentarily losing focus
My heel catches in the stones
Wobbling at first
Then hitting the ground

Wiping the dirt from my rags
Raising my head I see
He has rushed to my side
He offers his hand
Mortified I push it away

Jumping to my feet I hurry away
Tripping over once sparkling hem
Now stained and torn
Jogging, he offers his hand
Yet I refuse

Stumbling in one glass slipper
Inebriated by overwhelming disgrace
First slower steps, now faster
Again he offers his hand
I angrily slap it away

Falling, I cling to the railing
Attempting to regain my footing
The metal creeks, then suddenly snaps
Sending me tumbling to the ground
Gashing my leg on a jagged rock

Bloodied, tears streaming
Throbbing with the pain
He runs to my side
Gently touches my shoulder
Soothing my pain

Tenderly, on bended knee
He offers his hand
Embraces me

"Faithful"

(Meditating on the Exodus,
Composed February 18, 2010).

Egyptian masters at their heels,
Nearing the edge of possibility,
The Israelites are critically cornered,
Cowering before the sea,
'Til the Lord parts the waters,
Sets His people free.

True to His promises
His word will endure

Entrenched, enslaved to sin was I,
Chasm 'tween us was so wide,
Nothing I could do to escape,
Chained to my rebellious pride,
'Til the Lord comes to earth,
Rescues and purifies His bride.

The Lord is faithful
His love is sure

In the desert Israel did cry,
No sustenance to be found,
Grumbling against the great I AM,
Raising a rebellious sound,
'Til the Lord opens heaven,
Bestows manna on the ground.

True to His promises
His word will endure

Even now in my great need
Before Your feet I humbly kneel,
Overwhelmed and terrified,
Such pain and fear I feel,
'Til You gently comfort me,
My weary soul You tenderly heal.

The Lord is faithful
His love is sure

Oh true to Your promises
Your word will endure
Lord, You are faithful
Your love is sure

"The Little Lamb's Tale"

(Composed November 19, 2009).

The sun is in full bloom today,
A few wispy clouds overhead.
Birds are chirping in the meadow,
The promise of adventure in the air.
Prancing about the open field
Through green pastures and wild flowers,
A butterfly catches my eye,
So I skip after it to get a better look,
Its golden wings shimmering.
Among the trees I wander
Over roots and fallen leaves
Following the distant glittering.
My hooves now sore, throat dry,
Grown raspy with want of water,
Still I trample onward.
Entering shadows, hidden from the sun,
I stumble after the elusive sparkle.
Finally drawing nearer I hobble,
All my energy, just a few steps more...
My eyes riveted on the growing gold...
Suddenly the earth gives way beneath me,
As I fall downward, air rushing my face,
Landing hard, and SNAP!
"AHHH!" I cry out in pain,
My leg throbbing, pressure floods my ankle.
"HELP!" I moan, but no one responds.
Alone in the darkness I sob,
"Is there no one to help me?"
There is only silence.
Feet flailing I try to crawl forward,
But I am too weak.
Pushing harder I try to stand,
But I fall once more.
Utterly exhausted I curl tightly,
Clinging to a lone scraggly bush.
I wrinkle my nose as a bit of dirt
Falls from the cliff above.
Bleating once more, now with hope,
I lift my eyes heavenward.
Gentle hands surround me,
Embracing my thorn-filled fleece,
As he lifts me from the ledge.
The sharp pang in my leg
Seems to ease under his touch,
Wrapped in his strong, secure arms,
Held tightly to the shepherd's heart.

"Sparked"

(Candle ignited October 9, 2009).

The wind howls, whipping through the trees,
Thrashing leaves and scrawled branches pound,
As I falter in the darkness of the wood.
My thin coat is soaked and shredded.
Alone, cold, and vulnerable, I cower.

Dizzying torrents fill my mind,
Floods of doubt and terrors pummel.
'Is that a building up ahead?'
Leaping, a gnarled tree root catches my foot,
I flounder and fall in the mud.

Dazed I struggle to regain my focus,
While the rain continually pelts my face.
The ache in the pit of my stomach,
Drenched deeply to the very core,
I cry out in pain.

I cannot move any farther.
Muscles aching, worries overwhelming,
The throbbing is too much to bear.
A soft word I hear, yet I see no one,
As though a faint whisper floated on the wind.

Breathing deeply, I struggle forward,
Crawling toward the wooden structure
On my hands and knees on the forest floor.
One hand after the other I push on,
'Til I finally reach the rugged cedar planks.

Cold and shivering, I crouch,
Seeking warmth, shelter from the storm.
My vision blurred, I wipe the glass,
Desperate for hope, a ray of light,
On the other side of the window.

A tiny flame flickers in the frame.
Raindrops enshroud the surface.
Squinting I peer into the foggy pane.
Earnestly I pull on the metal ledge.
It does not budge.

Too dark to see, I stumble around the perimeter,
Tripping over stones and fallen branches,
Water pouring over my head,
My hands probing up and down the walls,
Fingers groping, searching for a knob.

At last I find the edge of the door,
As a cloaked and aged man appears before me,
Extends his hand, beckoning me to enter.
He pulls the door open, warmth sweeps over me,
Yet trembling, I feel my legs giving way.

Blinking, I slowly open my eyes, peering up.
Hazy at first, gradually my vision grows clearer.
His tender, shining eyes greet mine.
Deeply I breathe in the glowing air,
As he gently lifts me to my feet once more.

Surveying the room, I see not only a single flame,
But little lights scattered among the pews,
Each candle held by a weary traveler of varying ages;
Some are soggy and still dripping,
Others radiant and almost completely dry.

In his hand he holds my candle.
I had carried it in my pocket, merely frozen wax.
Ashamed, I bow my head before him,
And in his presence, it softens and ignites,
Sparked by the beatific twinkling of his eye.

"By his stripes"

(In reflection after taking
the Lord's Supper in August 2009).

"Nothing but the blood," the pastor sings,
As I make my way down the aisle.
Dipping the bread in the cup, I say, "Amen,"
And return to my seat with morsel in hand.

Permeated pinch of bread, lifting to my lips,
I squeeze too hard and it drips on my hand.
'Clumsy, irreverent fool!' I shriek.
The crimson trickles down my skin,
As a trail of blood on my palm.

Startled my fingers curl.
My other hand flies to the spot,
Cupping my hand, as though
Protecting a bloody wound,
Covering an exposed gash.

I gaze at the scarlet.
Such were his stripes that day
When his hands they pierced
And his flesh they flayed.
Sweating tears of blood,
So flowed the cleansing flood.

Like the coal-purged lips of Isaiah,
Once leprous, Naaman's childlike flesh,
Hemorrhaging woman or epileptic boy,
The sinful, withered hand of my soul.
Broken, shriveled, rotting
Now redeemed, renewed!

By his stripes we are healed

"The way unveiled"

(Brought to light on June 28, 2009).

Rickety fence, ashen from searing heat,
Thrashed by wind, drowned by rain,
Buried 'neath spiders and web,
Helpless prey trapped within
Sickly, silken tomb.

Snarled branches, nettle, and brier
Veil the way, choking out life.

Boarded up windows,
Putrid stench seeps.
Sharp nails protrude,
Spikes stabbed through plank.
Gaunt and grey, door barred shut.


Earth shakes.

Foundations crack.

The way unveiled.


Fingers uproot thorns,
Gently trickling crimson.
Drops of sweat, cascading brow,
Soothing dry, cracked clay.

Hands pry rugged boards,
Pierced by the nails.

Smiling eyes, doors bow,
Sparkling bright, gentle radiance.
He exhales, stone melts,
Peaceful zephyr, breath of life.

Through its wall his feet step,
Life and light herein dwell.

"I stretch out my hand"

(Penned after reading the First
Epistle of John on June 14, 2009).

Alone, surrounded by blackness.
Offering aid, comfort,
To clasp another,
To unite amidst the darkness,
I stretch out my hand.

Extended, palm exposed,
Reaching...
SLAP!

Stinging my fingers retract.
Wounded I recoil my hand,
Withdrawing back into myself.

Fingers throbbing,
Meditating on the hurt,
Blood pulsating,
Heat radiating,
Drops of sweat begin to form.
Tightening, tension,
My fingers curl...
I thrust my fist into flesh!

Relief of tension,
As muscles relax,
Pent up rage dispelled,
Fingers tingling--
The satisfying sting of justice.

Then my eyes open and I see--
The pain inflicted in return,
Greater than the wound sustained:
The terrible darkness of the eye.

Overwhelmed by my hurting hand
And the hurt inflicted by my hand,
I weep
Over my pain, my brother's pain,
The very existence of pain.

Weak, hand trembling,
I reach out once more.
Hesitant, timid,
Vulnerable, unprotected.

At present, fingers quaking,
Wounds tender at the touch,
But perhaps someday soon,
In brilliant light we shall fully embrace.

"No stone"

(Composed on Ash Wednesday 2009, Inspired
by reading the Gospel of John chapter 8).

Face-first I tumble into the dirt,
Hurled by the angry thrust of my accuser.
My clothes are a mere draping of rags,
Ripped as he dragged me from the bed.

Here in the middle of the temple courtyard
I lie alone, exposed for all to see.
A trickle of blood runs down my cheek.

Publicly humiliated, they curse at me,
Shouting disgrace, contempt,
And words of judgment.

Shaking.
Trembling.

The scorching sun is overhead.
A pile of stones surrounds me,
As a mob gathers.

One man draws near.
My husband approaches me,
Bends to the ground,
And lifts a stone.

Anger and rage fill his eyes.
Clenching his fist, his knuckles turn red.
I turn my face, bracing for the impact
Of his bone-crushing justice.

The shouting ceases,
Stones tumble to the ground,
And the mob disperses.

Silence.
Stillness.

Lifting my eyes, I see a man's feet before me.
Slowly my gaze reaches his hand.
He holds no stone.

Instead, he gently extends his hand to me.
Love and compassion warm his eyes,
As a single tear trickles down his face.