Category: Poems

His tender eyes spoke,

To man, as to a little child,

In the dawning of the morning,

So fair and clear and bright.

Bathed in sunlight,

Walking on new-born earth,

With chubby feet washed clean,

With eyes gazing straight and true.

Not turning away~

Either from the glare,

Or from the shadow,

But seeing it all,

While He watched over.

Yet as the sun climbed higher,

Men gave their eyes to others,

Gazing as through clouded eyes.

With trust in trust misplaced,

And with love of love erased~

With words of blooming sweetness,

Loyal to their dim heart’s weakness.

Until Spirit intervened,

Interceding our salvation,

Mediating revelation,

Through a nativity reborn.

A mother of clear vision,

He raised our eyes to His,

And lit the heart on fire,

And spoke again the Word,

That freed us from each other.

~FS

Tender shoot, run, run away,

Make your tracks soft, tender bunny,

Run, run away, by the light of the moon,

Into the deep of night you must go,

Escape far, far from home—

Run from your home, frightened bunny,

Come into my arms, I’ll hold you,

I’ll keep you safe from harm,

Lean into me and I’ll hold you,

I’ll kiss your furrowed brow—

A morning mist enshrouds you,

Like laughter falls from the sky,

Erases the tears that bound you,

Our hands interlaced,

Yours and mine—

Here we are in the middle of the night awake,

A walk to the bathroom in the dark,

Feeling our way through doorways,

Trying not to fall, trying not to hurt,

Like an eternity is our brief passage,

Starting so slowly and ending too quickly,

Eons we slept unbothered in shadow,

In the middle of this night we are awakened,

Yawning and startled we stand,

Playing our part, while yearning for sleep,

We can’t seem to sleep, why can’t we sleep?

Now is our time to shine—reluctantly—

Unwilling to lay down this script,

We stride the stage to the applause,

Or is it only the toilet running?

Is that the world clapping for us,

Or is it simply the water flowing?

Pause and reflect upon this sweet moment,

While you are awake and cannot sleep.

Rub your eyes and do not yearn too much,

Sleep will come again to close them.

Under the trees,

Spanning a small creek,

Rests an old wood bridge.

About as long as two men—

Lying end to end.

As wide as one man’s arms, outstretched—

Fingertip to fingertip.

It’s a reliable footbridge,

Although it leans a little to the left,

As I head out across it every morning;

And it leans a bit to the right,

On my return home in the evening.

But for all of that, it has no politics of its own,

And cares not a bit about mine.

It simply does its job—

Carrying me to the other side.

It’s built for adventures—

Its aged planks groan and creak underfoot,

With views, through its heartwood,

Rotted away by time, neglect and weather,

Of the water that flows beneath.

Its surface made slick from years of life,

Portends a slip and fall off its tattered edge,

For any impatient traveler who crosses too fast.

It invites one to take it slow,

Enjoy the passage and watch their steps—

Wild salmon swim within its shadow,

A possum or two scurries by,

Scattering the fallen leaves with a rustle,

A moist fragrant smell of earth fills the air,

And time—suspended briefly—

Between what has been, and what will be,

Exhales; and this woodland world holds its breath,

When I cross over the old wood bridge.

Today, today I am not a memory; nor are you.

We are flesh and bone today, for yet a while longer!

Smile with a great passion, and devote yourself to this moment, while it lasts.

Though this life is dissipation all around, we must refine it into gold.

The tattered fragments of ennui that make up each day,

Are ours, to distill into a sweet elixir of living.

Life is a headlong tumble into despair,

Were it not for our will to joy!

Will it!

While we still breathe, there is still hope.

Time, is an enervating solution, which decays the objects of our affection;

Yet, this moment also carries the potential for reinvigoration.

The building blocks of a joyful tomorrow are all around us;

Get to work and build!

Because tomorrow,

You, or I, may no longer be;

Or, we may both be gone altogether.

Then, only memories.

Eventually…

Forgotten completely.

Sin is deceptive sugar~

Very sweet one moment,

Very bitter the next.

Sin has a short shelf-life;

It spoils too soon,

It leaves me so blue.

I love the taste of sin;

While I’m sinning, but~

Its aftertaste is repugnant.

Ever notice how sin steals joy;

Takes a sledgehammer to peace;

And multiplies anxieties and despair?

But sin is just dynamite!

To our relationship with God;

It cuts through that, like butter.

Sometimes I can’t get enough,

One thing leads to another,

So much sugar makes me delirious!

Coursing violently through my veins~

So exciting, it just makes me shake,

Possessing me like a strange creature.

It takes me to the mountaintop,

Then it throws me off a cliff~

Deceptive sugar makes me crazy!

It makes me so sick, I just wish I could retch~

Will nothing halt my sweet self-destruction?

Yes, shame comes up, as the nausea that I need.

Exposing all these things for what they are~

Sin is the sugar that feeds, as it devours,

Wasting our lives, by the minute and by the hour.

~FS

The mystery of Christ always surrounds us.

How blessed are those who dwell within it.

I was asleep for many days, and once I awoke,

At the touch of His mighty hand~

He showered me with kindness and with gifts,

These, far greater than my money or my goals.

He transported me into better things,

When I turned myself towards Him.

I turned away from lesser things,

And I offered myself to Him.

He cleaved me into two.

A shell of my former self fell asunder,

As new mystery arose within my heart.

He made of me into a flame of fire~

A burning bright of pulsing light.

That I might see and taste His beauty,

Made small enough for me.

That I may feel and touch His glory,

Though a creature meek and lowly.

~FS

My soul desires to sing praises to you, Oh God!

For you have given us worship, to heal our souls.

Lord, draw me close into your sanctuary.

And pour your words into my heart,

That I may zealously praise You!

Lead me into the congregation of the righteous;

And place me among your people.

Stand me in the midst of your Godly ones.

Teach me to love, as you have given Love;

So that I may learn to love, as You love.

All of creation rejoices in you, our God!

Why then have I, in sorrows, become alienated;

And why have I separated my life, from your Life?

Restore me now, to the joy of your salvation;

Attune me again, to the sound of your voice!

Which every humble creature knows.

Bring me into communion, at your banquet table.

You Lord, are the food and drink, for my weary soul.

Together now, we raise our voices in one accord,

To praise your great goodness, and your holiness!

You give us life, and again, you give us life eternal;

We are many little voices, together in You, made whole.

~FS

My doctor’s never met me,

But he/she doesn’t need to.

I’m in their computer and,

My numbers do not lie.

Or so they say;

They say they know me,

By my numbers.

So they’ll tell me what to do~

From afar they’ll tell me what to do,

They’ll prescribe me perfectly.

Because they know I’m just a number,

Just like every other, and they know:

That I’m no different,

Than any other.

They’ll tell us all just what to do,

Because they know us perfectly.

And they know just how to keep us,

Safe from everything.

And if they don’t, we needn’t worry,

Because they’re working very hard.

They’ll have a better answer soon,

We need to trust they’re never wrong.

And if we don’t believe them,

That they know what they are doing.

They’ll have our friends ‘persuade’ us,

And have them tell us what to do.

My health is now a public matter,

Every neighbor is my doctor,

And the government is my physician.

Everyone except me it seems,

Is now an authority on my body.

Because they heard it on TV,

Or from some guy they call Fauci.

But I don’t think I really need,

Some far-flung ‘expert’ committee,

Determining what to put in me.

Healing is an ancient art, a very personal thing.

Nothing even remotely like, this modern medicine.

~FS

Go into your heart~

Your heart is a still and silent place,

Of healing.

And it is a dangerous place,

Where you will encounter Truth.

Most people do not desire to go there.

But will you?

If you will, and if you dare,

Then, go now into your heart.

Descend, let go, and have courage.

Your thoughts will not let you go there,

You must let them go.

It is the path of angels, and of saints.

It is goodness, and your peace.

And of coming to your senses.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Yes.

Yes, go now.

Breathe.

Descend.

You may feel shame, I don’t know why.

But let it go and do not fear.

You may feel sad, it’s okay to cry.

And carry on, don’t give up.

“Come to my help, Oh God!

Lord Jesus, hurry to my rescue.”

These words may help you now,

Or others like them:

“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.”

Speak these.

Breathe.

Seek your heart.

It is a beginning.

To find yourself.

There.

Beneath the noise and clatter.

~FS