Your Love Washes Over Me

As I bang my head against the wall in the halls
Of this home, not my own; sigh and loudly cry,
Your compassion washes over me like waves
From rich love wider and deeper than the sea,
And you had no bed, nowhere to lay your head,
But you’ve said you will take care of my needs,
Sowing seeds of faith that grow ever so slowly
As you provide my daily bread, day after day,
And remind me I do have somewhere to stay,
And so what shall I say? And how can I repay?
I say ‘thank you,’ as I bathe me in love so true,
Which canopies over me like the skies so blue!

Mystery of the Beloved

Undomesticated, wild and mysterious you are, my Beloved;
Unsophisticated yet wisdom incarnate, my brightest star;
Your eyes open to unfathomable depths and yet not bizarre
As they carry kindness and understanding, comprehending
Every detail of my life along this trail in the tale that is told,
And you are so very bold but gentle, warm and never cold;
And do you not remold me and make me new every morn?
Ah! I am born again and again and only begin now to know
That this is not mere show but truth unfolding like a flower
As with you all is possible and the impossible simply is not,
And you have bought my very soul with your spilling love
From above, saturating me in fine crimson wine of heaven,
And for all of this I love you with an undying love, Beloved!


Note: First published in March of this year, now republished for the enjoyment of new reader-followers (as well old). Blessings to one and all!

Expressions of Love

O my Beloved! I will love you forever and ever more every day
Along the way of the life you have given me in you and for you
As yours throughout the hours of light and each ‘n every night
With no fright or evil thought of flight, but to behold your sight
In the moments of time and eternity, for you love me with love
In everlasting, passionate compassion, understanding and care,
At once like mother with child so mild and, also, like the lover,
Who hovers and covers me with deep and rich, sweet affection
Without any affectation, deflection or defection, dear Beloved;
So, too, I run to you and find the sun cannot outshine your love
From above, but dims by comparison, and so the moon so soon
To rise is but only your prize to give me as I live by you, in you
. . .
O my Beloved! I will love you forever and ever more every day
Along the way of the life you have given me in you and for you

Wild Love

Ah! You are not tame, my Beloved, nor do you play games,
But though you are wild, you can also be as mild as a child
And gentle as the Dove, though you’re the Lion from above,
So I do not approach you in fear when you are so very near;
With tears of joy in my eyes I lay my head upon your bosom
And sleep in peace and never cease to be thankful for you;
You hold me tight in the might of your nail-pierced arms,
Safe from all harms and alarms, and I am deeply enchanted
In your keep as I reap the blessings of the highest heavens
Leavened with love from above and compassion unending,
And you are always sending me gifts to lift my very spirit,
So how can I thank you, my Lion Lover, but to love you, too?


Note: First published in March of this year, now being republished due to some renewed interest as well as for the reading pleasure of new blog-followers (as well as others who may not have yet read this piece!) Blessings to one and all!

A Paschal Celebration

Out of the darkness the Light brightly shines,
As death itself is swallowed up in living Life
Breathing in the wicked halls of dark Hades
With walls lined by chained, mournful spirits,
But there are no shackles to be worn by you,
O Beloved, for you have born the very worst
And you have overcome, coming victoriously
Into the very throne room of groaning Sheol
To snatch the keys of death and hell
To be cast in your living well of Life;
And already the bell tolls the coming of dawn
As your tomb yawns in an awakening sunrise
That will be the greater surprise of all history
For death itself cannot hold in your bold Life
Just as the stark dark cannot overcome Light;
Yes, you are like that fabled phoenix, Beloved,
Rising from ashes with healing in your wings!

To one and all: Happy Easter! Blessed Resurrection Day!

Love of the Beloved

In Celebration of Easter

How can it be that I should see the love you have for me?
That you would take me in your arms away from all harm
With no need for alarm is a charm no money could buy,
And freely I sing gleefully of your passionate compassion
That you do not ration but give liberally that I might live
So peacefully within your bright light, my saving Knight!
And so my very heart takes flight with no fight or fright
As your love takes me higher and kindles fire in my soul
Where there was a gaping hole until you stole me away
On the day I was lying and dying, crying at my loss of life;
Yes, you found me bound to the nefarious angel of death,
Breathing my last breath, then you gave me your breath
That I might live again and forevermore with you, in you,
By you and for you, O Beloved and holy lovely Shepherd!
. . .
O how can it be that I would see the love you have for me?

Passing Clouds Along the Sky

Passing clouds along the sky, who would veil the earth from distant light, hear me now hail the night in promise of the dawn of yet another day. No tear will be shed in mournful loneliness underneath your dark forebodings and ill-promise of storm and terror. The Sun will rise with piercing ray and power breaking dark, speeding gloom far away … and I will rejoice and laugh again.

Death comes now, but as passing friend, not remaining foe ~ no bolted gate, no! an open door ~ and we embrace and exchange the kiss of peace, so long ago did the din of war cease at the mouth of an empty tomb, where once lay the dead-now-risen One. And so it is the Reaper now comes with promise, not plague, in sweet anticipation of the never-ending day when ends his work, and he too shall rest.

Passing clouds along the sky, who would shut out all light and make assault in storm upon the world, would you have me cry? Would you have me beg you disappear, and what with the rain would matter my tear? Would you have me hide in dark from the darkness you bring, when so soon from the Sun everlasting light will spring? And would I myself deny the dawn of joy and never laugh again?

Look east, dark clouds, along the line! Even now shows faint promise round the distant Mount, as black gives way to the golden ray! Dawn is birthed from the womb of night, and hope is cradled in the coffin ~ yes, there if life! For some short season we may bid farewell but you, clouds of doom, are passing; the Sun will appear and we will rejoice and laugh and never again will you veil this earth, for the night will be forever done!

Passing clouds along the sky, who would veil the earth from distant light, hear me now … The Sun of Righteousness has risen with healing in His wings!


Note: First published in June 2015, now republished especially for Eastertide. Blessings to one and all!

And Now Do the Shades Rise Up To Praise You

Note: Written five years ago in April 2012, this personal account is still largely true today. Coming quickly now to the celebration of Easter, it seemed appropriate for me to share this testimony with reader-followers of this blog in hopes that you find both joy and inspiration. A half-decade may have passed, but the answer to the title-question still remains the same for me. Blessings to one and all!


Knowing and not knowing. Knowledge without understanding. Wisdom trampled beneath the arrogant feet of folly, led by the blind man I was born, groping along the wall, waiting for the next fall. No not a man, not half a man, but only a shade of what I was meant to be, the image-bearer of God, lovingly created in his likeness.

Feeling my way along in the darkness, surrounded by multitudes of blinded men, I was alone existing in my unlife, haunted by numinous dreams of otherworldly communion, struggling to forge hearts out of stone, draw water from desert sands, and cover the night in unseen light born of imagination desperately searching for some façade behind reality.

And I flew in a thousand directions to escape the anguish of my own haunted soul, dreaming worlds and wars, making love and peace in perfectly controlled imagination, writing my own laws and standing high priest in my own holy temple, all as vacuous as the furtherest reaches of coldest outer space.

Man by birth … Shade by slow death.

So much less ~ so terribly other ~ than what I was meant to be, and why? And I have fought and scrambled for so many shallow honors and recognitions, for power, prestige and popularity. Vainly do I scurry to fill my life with toys and trinkets, grasping at suave success and material gain, gasping for the breathe of life in the dark shadows of a dying world.

And my heart cry is lifted in the awful realization that apart from the Author of Life there is no life ~ authentic life ~ but that I am and ever shall be wholly destitute. No matter how much I shift and change, no difference how many different parts I play or people I become, I am nothing. I am the Shade.

But now stripped bare, blindfold removed, and all fantasy blown away like thin wisps of lingering smoke. Now awakening to the awakened world, and released from the confines of the medical ward back into the streets of asphalt and concreted buildings, flashing lights and delivery trucks, schools and churches and middle class homes…

Now what? More alive and awake than ever I have been before, I am frightened. What now? Fantasy feels safer, dreams more secure. No matter how agonizingly unrealistic, and no matter how disappointing … how shattered. But I hear the whisper in ancient tone, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.’ And so, ‘awake, o sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.’ And he who has now begun this good work in you is faithful and he himself will bring it to completion, for he came not only to give you life, but life abundantly!”

What else but to bow down in humble adoration and thanksgiving? After all, did the Light not shine to rescue me from Darkness? Did the Voice not speak for me to hear? Was the Story not told to fill my emptiness with Meaning? Did the Arms not open wide to embrace and hold one so alone and forlorn? Did Life not die and rise again that I might die no more, but live? Live?

The great psalmist, David, once asked, “Will you show your wonders to the dead? Will the shades rise up and praise you?” And the answer is given…

Yes, the shades do now rise to praise you! Lord, make me whole.

Your Sweet Voice

Your sweet word is the first heard in the early morning,
And your choice voice the last chord to be struck at night,
Though I might lie awake for the sake of listening to you;
Your melody is so true, carried by wind neath blue skies,
And try as I may I cannot find any finer sound
In all of this world into which I’ve been hurled,
And you delight in serenading me with light songs of joy
That arise from the depths of your golden heart of love
And rise above the cacophony of too-ordinary existence
With an innate insistence on making my own soul happy
Yes . . .
Your sweet word is the first heard in the early morning,
And your choice voice the last chord to be struck at night

River of Life

There is the River that continues to flow,
From the Mount above to valleys below,
And yet with no beginning, never ending,
While the Breath ever blows o’er its face,
Gently and softly in rhyme with the River
In time but eternal with a maternal Love
That hovers just o’er the waters running
Thru countless lives with enlivening Life
Not rife with pain but only full with gain
And pregnant with Promise calling to all
To come and freely drink and sink below
The surface in cleansing surety of purity
. . .
This is the River of Life