a sonnet for the night

As twilight succumbed to night’s inkish cloak,

A melodic penumbra enticed me.

It beckoned me nigh, the instruments broke

Through a distance that tends to define me.

Abreast of the band pulsed the undulant

Crowd as the bass ground my hips to its groove

The saxophone wailed a lick of consent

To the trombone that had nothing to prove.

The drummer kept pace, our rhythms entrained

As the energy wound us together

The shadows, we pushed, the players, they strained

Over the improvisational tether.

Hands lifted high, momentum increased

To the infinite night our desires released.

the muse

The ancient muse who comprehends

the unexpected ebb and flows

and language where all language ends

relieves the snow with spring’s amends

while keeping steady in repose.

That ancient muse does comprehend

the breath between two souls transcends

tornadic tangoed lovers’ throes

and language where all language ends.

More fragile than the mind intends

(while hide and seeking) to disclose

the ancient muse does comprehend

the cages made to self-defend                              

but gently coaxes out from those

in language where all language ends

a whispered, “yes.”  The heart extends

a slow-unfolding gossamer rose   

to the ancient muse who comprehends

the language where all language ends.

The repeating line "language where (all) language ends" was taken from Rainer Maria Rilke's poem,  "On Music", which arrived in my inbox through Every Day Poems on Tuesday April 14.

I read a poem a day.  At least.  And you can, too.  Just click   HERE to subscribe.

lent 3

If I stood before you, Jesus, stripped

of accomplishments

of wealth

of nourishment

of power

of security

of health

of intellect

of control

of friends

of family

Then what, Jesus?

I hide so well, my own nakedness frightens me

I study and praise and seek

I toil and pursue and fight

But rest, Jesus, to rest?

To listen, to breathe in the stillness

to trust You are working

before me

behind me

around me

within me

To sacrifice my chaos

For the peace of Who You are.

lent 4

Though I wave palm leaves with the crowd

unsure of what is happening 
but wanting to belong

Though I cheer "hosanna"

believing you are a king of this world

arriving to conquer my foes

Though I cry out "crucify Him" with the mob

when expectations fall short

and my warrior king comes as a lamb

Jesus, today I say “yes”

prostrate in the shadow of the cross

awaiting the mystery of the empty tomb

and the promise of redemption in You.

lent 2

How easily I forget, Jesus, that without first Your sacrifice,

My love moves from the center of my sin:  my need, my desire, my conditions

Only when I know, fully, Your love

Can I release  my judgement

Against Your Created Ones

And give of myself

out of the abundance of

Your death on the cross

Empty me, that I may overflow

A single act of love

From the Eternal One,  

Who loves us for eternity

lent 1

I stand before you now, Jesus,

At the edge of the desert within me,

My mind set inward, to my weakest places,

Where I long for love, for relief, for refreshing

Jesus, I stand and meet Your gaze,

Soaking in the intimacy that is born

When deep cries out to deep

And soul greets soul beyond a veil of separation

On this Lenten journey I pray:

Repair my sight with Yours, Jesus,

That I may connect with just one person,

Whether familiar or a stranger,

whether like-minded or opposed,

And meet their gaze as You see me now,

In my weakness, wholly precious to You.

wizard

though once i loved the scarecrow (that stupid silly scarecrow)

the heartless tin man and even the cowardly lion

i pulled back the curtain to reveal oz for who he is

(just a man no more no less)

i had the power all along

no technicolor fantasy to back me up

with each step i follow my own brick road