good friday

it wasn’t me
that cast the burden
denied the son
and all I heard in
temple
or with fish and loaves
outside the town
I wouldn’t know
it wasn’t me
who’s daughter dying
begged for breath
and saw her lying
there no more
by his command
her vitals strong
to rise and dance
about the room
it wasn’t me
who saw the crowds
yet disbelieved
his gospel preached
on love’s defense
the shepherd king
of fishermen
whose bread was it?
it wasn’t mine
a supper meant
to prophesy
and bless apostles
divinely picked
to build the church
brick by brick
no rooster crowed
to weigh my heart
for I could never
let him part
away from me
if I could speak
nor in the garden
kiss his cheek
betray the lamb
and sell his name
for silver coins
and fatal shame
and oh, not I
could be the one
for whom he bled
for whom he hung
it wasn’t me
that put him there
or took him down
limp and bare
and placed him in
a tomb of stone
for we were certain
death had won
we cleaned his endless
wounds and cuts
his broken body
and lifeless touch
anointing him
we placed his hands
and wrapped him well
in linen bands
we cried above
his holy bed
dear Lord! how can
this be the end?
and home we walked
in dark, at night
lost, forgetting
a promised life
my God, my God
I ask of thee
forgive this child
for it was me

pc-shop-forgotten

In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. 1 John 4:10

He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. 1 Peter 2:24

But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 6:22-23

image: Forgotten Sin by Lance Brown

 

passion

(a repost from March 2015)

palm procession
Hosanna sing
a road of robes
for colt and King
the people praise
He’s here! He’s come!
our saving grace
triumphant one
the figless tree
is cursed and dead
the time of temple
is at its end
and we will eat
with Christ, a last
before our treason
comes to pass
for come it does
with blood and bruise
denied and mocked
the King of Jews
and when He dies
on nail and wood
the tapestry
is torn for good
centurion
in witness, awed
proclaims the man
the Son of God

the-triumphal-entry

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. Isaiah 53:3-7

1191-Anointing-His-Feet-2-08-BT-fs2

Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. John 12:3

image: image; Anointing His Feet by Wayne Fort

fig

I cannot type
another sprig
until I pen
of you my fig
la vie it was
and loss of it
and so I press
your tiny print
into the page
and speak, my plum
your pace of pulse
it’s quicker drum
the dreamed up smell
into your hair
a grin and chin
of pre world-ware
expectancy
of traits unknown
new love, my lime
already sown
and though the ache
has met defeat
I won’t forget
your budding beat
now in His hand
your form can bloom
and I let go
of losing you

drawn-branch-fig-tree-20

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the LORD. For his whole life he will be given over to the LORD.” And he worshiped the LORD there. 1 Samuel 1:27-28

image: Fig tree by Ryu Itadani

charleston

thank you for restoring me
in cedarwood and cypress
hand poured wavy windows
undoing what is lightless
thank you for your fix its
the paint and fitting textures
forgive me for the tilting frames
and all that’s been neglected
thank you for your gutting
away what’s rot and weakened
making room for banisters
to floors and floors of meeting
you, the expert carpenter
with wonderworking skill
who takes me by the arms each day
and teaches me to build
thank you for your faithfulness
to this project as it was
meant to be, unbroken me,
before this world was flawed
be with me as I persist
to bolster beam and board
to free more space and holy place
worthy of my Lord

carpenter

For we are glad when we are weak and you are strong. Your restoration is what we pray for. 2 Corinthians 13:9

restore wallpaper

He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Psalm 23:3

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. Ephesians 2:19-22

to meet you

the few block walk
brimmed with expectancy
and recalled other autumns
to mind
past, but still part
my chest faintly ached
with nostalgia
in the cool apple air
and a grief-like need
to possess 
the saffron mums
and Cinderella pumpkins
on neighboring stoops
filled my throat
the leafy sidewalks,
burnt orange and soft yellow,
kept my course
and pace
as I longed for old falls
mint in memory
with fictitious ease
and for some minutes I lingered
there, pining
until I passed through
and put longing away
and I was awash
again
in present promise
so when I arrived
to meet you, old friend
ordering chai and warm spices,
my heart was already
quite steeped
in October

autumn-leaves-wallpapers-high-quality-93466008-2

The earth has yielded its produce; God, our God, blesses us. Psalm 67:6

‘All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child’s mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’
from The Hound of Heaven, by Francis Thompson (1859–1907)

love poem 1:10

repeatedly
in barracks deep
I hold an easy
hearted me
and I instead
succumb to blitz
stringent steps
affection missed
my testy ears
can’t hear the words
touch is tempered
warmth deferred
and labors hard
that could be soft
abandoned for
impatient thoughts
repeatedly
I pledge to change
with vow and hope
I rearrange
my mind and so
the malleable me
can surface from
the barracks deep
repeatedly
I blunder back
lose my way
and fall off track
repeatedly
I fail my vow
but wonderously
your love allows
forgiveness,
so I seek your ease
and try again
repeatedly

2017-09-22_07-47-48

Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead. Philippians 3:13

Enlarge the place of your tent; Stretch out the curtains of your dwellings, spare not; Lengthen your cords And strengthen your pegs. Isaiah 54:2

So that you will walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, to please Him in all respects, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God. Colossians 1:10

image: watercolor by Louise van Terheijden

wasp

a flagging wasp,
compromised due to accidental indoor entrapment,
flew up her shorts.
she didn’t feel it just then, dancing about the porch,
the wasp likely clinging to her swinging jersey knit.
it wasn’t until a few minutes later
in the dining room,
still romping with late day energy,
that she sensed the small alien’s location
and quickly batted at her thighs,
hollering full mouthed sobs of horror
at the sight of the assailant
and the thought of what might of been.
nothing was, by the way,
to be,
for as I’ve just explained
the bug was beat,
and no fuel remained for flight or sting.
as it was, he fell beneath the breakfast bench
with what I imagine to be a microscopic thud,
and listlessly awaited his finish by flipflop
or rolled up recycling.
it was the former.
the girl could not be calmed for some time,
plagued by the remembrance of his tiny feet
and the minuscule gust of his cellophane wings
near her knees.
alas, for turmoil endured:
homework could not be attempted
and the clean up of day’s amusement, quite impossible.
vows of morning courage were swiftly pledged.
quick too was I to comfort and agree to terms,
though quietly bewildered at her panic
and resulting disability.
I searched for empathy, but found less than total.
it wasn’t, after all, a spider.

Artist: DAIM | "DAIM TCD wasp" | acrylic on canvas | 70 x 50 cm | 1996

image: DAIM TCD wasp