Blog Home  Welcome To My Homepage 1: Sons of Abraham 2: Crucified 3: 4: 5: 6: Favorite Links

5

 

Drought's Break

The soil falls in a cloud of dust from his hand

As he looks wearily out over his dry land

Grass, dryer than dry

Crushes easily underfoot with each step

As he roams what remains of his dream.

His dams are just parched hollows,

Cracks splitting the earth in crazy patterns.

It's been years since he saw real rain...good rain...life giving rain.

His cattle and his crops are dead.

His sheep and his heart are dying

His way of life is gone.

He looks up at the near-empty sky, begging...

Praying....why?

A breeze picks up.

Clouds scurry by, empty,

Blocking the day's remaining sunlight

Creating strobing flickers of shadow and light.

His heart aches for the living rhythm that rain can bring.

Again, he asks....pleads.....why?

He pauses in his trek across his destroyed life

And rests on a fencepost that leans drunkenly.

What else is there?

What more has he to give to make the land live again?

If he could open his veins

And pour his own blood over the land

To bring forth life, he would.

He turns and heads back towards the homestead.

            The dirt falls in a cloud of dry dust

            Landing in a whisper upon the polished oak.

            Dark clouds hurry across the sky.

            As the mourners turn from the Farmer's grave,

            The heavens open 

            And bring forth rain.

 

Angelspeak 16/3/2000

Miracles when angels speak

You hear their whispered call

They warn us of what lies ahead

When temples, churches, fall.

 

I weep for those who've never heard

The wisdom that they bring

Hard to fathom - but they speak to me

Of complex, yet simple things.

.

Loner

The fog blankets the streets

In tiers

Creating legless bodies

Strolling, stumbling, tumbling

In the night-light

Into their doorways

Their boxes

There is no sense of God here.

I shiver

And pull my coat closer

Seeking its meagre warmth

Wearing it more for security

Than comfort

Hiding me from the real world

Covering my glories

And my shames.

My Forgivenesses and unforgivenesses

 

Across the water, a foghorn blows

It breaks the silky silence

Softly....like a hope

Making me smile

For the first time in days

A sound that feels like me

Bleak at times - yet sturdy

Solid, like the faith I wish I had.

I know I need.

 

I turn the corner

To return to the false and empty warmth

Of home

The moon breaks through the mists

And shines a guiding light

Showing me my path