Day 16 – Poetry for Lent

Revolution of Grace

Revolution brewing                      Revolution
Hunger & rage                           brewing hunger
breed                                   and rage breed
Rebellion born                          unrest

Districts rise                          On a donkey
the Mockingjay                          Jesus
a symbol                                Savior
a tool unwillingly                      a Son willingly
wielded                                 sacrificed
to strike the capitol                   to save the people
violence justified                      forgiveness granted
They get what                           we got what
they deserve                            we didn't deserve

Day 15 – Poetry for Lent

Season Change

In Detroit today for a conference and when I was looking at the green water of the river, there was this weird whitish section floating down stream with birds sitting in the midst of it. I looked closer and noticed that it was a large chunk of ice. The Spring thaw is here!

icebergs on water
mini islands for the birds
spring thaw on rivers

Day 13 – Poetry for Lent

Negative Space

The idea of negative space has intrigued me ever since I had an instructor talk about it in an art class. So much of art can be applied to life, don’t you think?

I think I’ll play around with light and dark font/background for this piece. It might add to the impact. And of course, the poem itself is rough, but I think there are some good seeds here….

You must add the darks,
my art teacher said
to balance the lights.

    My darks creep in and
    muddy my light 

Negative space
my art teacher called it
The space that
surrounds an object
defines it boundaries
and finds its edges

    Depression confines me,
    cuts edges with razor blade steel

An object doesn't become real
my art teacher said
doesn't stand out
until you add shading.

     What I am not
     helps make what I am real

The mix of positive and negative space
my art teacher said
brings balance 
to a composition.
 
     Learning to think 
     in shades of gray
     brings balance
     to my life.

Day 12 – Poetry for Lent

As I head to work in the morning, I drive over the bayou bridge where I can see the sun rising in the East, and the moon still showing in the West. This particular poem catches my oh-so-often feeling of being caught in the middle of things and not knowing which way to go.

Somewhere Between

Red sun on my left
full moon on the right
here i am again
stuck ‘tween day and night

Dare i move south
or should i go north
i tremble with fear
afraid to sail forth

Opportunities abound
in what lies ahead
so why does it seem
there’s nothing but dread?

Go forth take a risk
sail on take a chance
you might be surprised
to enjoy the dance

But still i wait here
locked in the middle
hoping the sun
might move just a little.

Day 11 – Poetry for Lent

Crawling

I am feeling my way
blind in more than eyes
longing to soar
but afraid of falling
or maybe not getting off the ground at all
so I crawl, inching forward
eyes closed
and maybe my heart too.


When I quiet all the noise
I hear your voice
calling my name
and my heart remembers you
and leaps forward
to meet you again
still, my flesh holds me back
my mind pleads for caution


Help me Lord
cast aside my restraints
that I might fly
in Your awesome wonder.

Day 10 – Poetry for Lent

Harvest

Devastated to hear about the shootings in New Zealand this morning. This poem was one I had written after the shootings in Las Vegas. I was playing with form because I wanted to paint a visual to go with it as well. Trees always remind me of life and connectedness. I pulled it out and played with it a bit here. Still haven’t gotten very far on the painting….



Did you
feel powerful
for those minutes,
framed in that window
far above the ground
—far below heaven?
Did the music sound distant,
the joy and excitement
way beneath you?
When you sowed your terror,
did you even look down
to see the crop you planted?
Chaos
Panic
Fear
Injury
Death

Scattered bullets, mistaken fireworks,
spurred a stampede in that country music crowd. 
But everyday heroes rounded up the wounded, body-sheltered injured,
prayed over the dead, and carried the bleeding over fences,
across runways, behind cars, and under balconies. 
First responders, nurses, doctors, friends, and strangers 
jumped those gaps between life and death.

Did you see that, Terrorist?
Did you see the hope and help that flowered
despite the chaos you’d sown?
Or did you stare into that dark barrel
before reaping your own deathly harvest?

Do we see
that what we plant
 we must prepare to harvest?





Day 8 – Poetry for Lent

Do No Harm

In this poem I played with the idea of several different “voices” as well as what I hope people understand is irony.

Do No Harm

First do no harm.
                                  Stomp down 
                                  those who disagree,
                                  who disbelieve.
                                  If they cannot see
                                  your right from their wrong,
                                  cast them out,
                                  like chaff from 
                                  your pure wheat.
                                  Their evil questions raise                               demons of doubt,
                                  doubts and specters of fear.
                                  What is behind the curtain?
Do onto others
what you'd have done
unto you.
                                  Hold strong 
                                  to your god-given truth.
                                  If you say it 
                                  loud enough,
                                  if you close your eyes, 
                                  and recite your prayers
                                  at a shout,
                                  you’ll drown out their cries,
                                  you won't see their wounds.
Truly I tell you,
whatever you did for
--or to--
one of the least of these
brothers and sisters of mine,
                       Could it be,
                       your secret fear,
                       a man pulling wires?
                       Or maybe no one at all,
                       a captainless ship,
                       a clock wound up and ticking?
you did for 
--or to--
me.                              
                       Or is the real nightmare 
                       coming face-to-face
                       with the wizard Himself,
                       the Great and Powerful,
                       the Mighty and Merciful?
                       And finding He is
                       so much more than you
                       can ever believe,
                       could ever conceive?
Then do no harm.