Insisting Inquisitions

“Why?” We demand.
Like a mad mob begging to know.
An injustice we cannot stand.
A catastrophe bringing sorrow
Over our meek mind
Pleading – release from this bind.

Simply like an infant
Laying blindly in a cradle
questioning someone more magnificent
Swatting the mobile- to us it is fatal.
That we be told
answers unable to hold.

Why? We demand.
This time we mean it.
Not in our land.
This is not fit.

Insisting inquisitions…
Flutter about our intuitions.
Banging like cymbals
Pounding in our temples
These matters are inconceivable
They are – unreachable.

But, come- let us reconsider:
No, not an inquiry,
But to draw nearer
To the ultimate Glory
Holding – tighter & tighter

Like clinging to a Holy rope
Blistered hands, but only hope
Perhaps we could recognize
For our good, not demise
Yes, hurt & an anguish state
But it can refine, polish, and cultivate
So: no commanding inquisitions
But only humble supplications
Coming to the One
greater than He is none
With reliance and rest
He, in control – knowing best.
Where all: cradle, mobile, and infant
in his grip – how magnificent?

The Better Creator

Sit, open, flip, turn
Find the blank page
Start to engage

Snatch my pen
Smell the ink
& begin to think

Feverishly connecting
Thoughts to words, dot-to-dot
Constructing a plot

Slow down,
Take a break
Marvel at what I can make

Feeling “large” like Napoleon
He Stood tall at five foot three
Conquering all Europe could see

A statue, puffed up made of stone
As I tower the sky
Forever want in my eye

Gazing down at my little masterpiece
Took me time & strain… up I look with resistance…
At everything around – spoken into existence

I am humbled…
Like Napoleon to St. Helena chained & bound
My statue crumbled to the ground.

Pause

 

I put my keys

In the ignition

But didn’t

Turn to crank

 

Instead

I leaned back

& listened to

the morning silence

 

A moment –

You want to hold

To tuck away

Folded twice, in your back pocket

 

Perhaps

It’s the warm,

Reuniting embrace

After a long absence

 

Or.

Why couldn’t it be

The sea of familiar faces

On that crisp homecoming evening

 

Well,

There is no reason why

It cant be

The perfect view

Of things bigger than you

Where you sit & reflect.

 

Ah, I think it is

The sweet nervous second

When, she, too, is

Looking back

 

I repositioned myself

Started the car-

Relieved – there was

Not a hole

In my back pocket.

Our Heart Surgeon

In my heart, there is a splinter

Been there since I can remember

Jagged & barbed, it remains lodged there

The pain it brings – more than I can bear

I say to myself, I want it out…sorta

As it pierces through the aorta

 

I will just care for this on my own

Tweezers, gauze, and stitches sown

 

Nothing I do seems to fit.

Farther falling to the pit.

 

I can barely keep sane.

All of these efforts in vein.

 

At my worse this day

Yet he says I will stay

Calming me, he will say

 

Please, my dear patient

Just be patient

I am the good physician

I already took the incision

Remember what I paid

Trial after trial and I’ve stayed

All your efforts to cover sin

You forget, I am the surgeon.

A Distant Present

Everything outside moving around

Power lines, trees, skies

Driving – everyday route bound

My mumbling mind hearing inner cries

Ringing thoughts, the only sound

Conscience conflict – ambush lies

 

Expectations, transitions, examinations

Complications, frustrations, isolation

 

…sanctification?

 

Yes, please! Help, please!

My mantra, I will sing

Spirit, bring your calming ease

Only the truth I cling

 

There is light… light!

Traffic light… stopped at the traffic light

“Grant.” “Grant,” She said.

 

Interrupted or reconnected?

 

now it is goodbye

dropping her off

downcast deep sigh

ive had enough

 

congratulations…

two places at once never hurt so bad