Show and Tell

Show and Tell. Remember?
You are 5
And already you know better
Than to lay your real heart
Before the scrutiny of
Toddler sophisticates.
So you bring your third-best
Butterfly habitat, slightly filmed,
Hatch won’t quite close.
And as for the ‘Tell’ part,
You woodenly say,
“It’s mine. And I like it.”
Show and Tell, safe.

Lord, let me not be
Show and Tell safe
With my first-best,
My heart treasure.
Give me a chance
Today 
To lay it out wide and
Invite scrutiny and
Tell and tell and tell.

And should a toddler sophisticate
Laugh,
Or bite back,
Let me hear, underneath the scorn,
The miracle they are longing for,
The beauty from the vile,
The butterfly possibility.

And let me Show and Tell!
~
Meditation on John 1

All My Flesh Is Healed

Some piercing beauties –
The color of November air
When the sun inhales
Earth’s cave-cool breath and
Drapes the bony slopes
Of a naked brown mountain –
Approach the shocking grace
Of a God who loved our sinking skin
So much
That He fit His infinity into it.
How could our boundered flesh
Ark eternity?
And more, how could Eternity then
Be pleased to share Itself with
Temporal decay?
And reverse it?
All my flesh is healed when I
Inhale the living truth that
His naked body,
Born in blood and noise,
Is God with me.
~
Meditation on John 1: 16 and Black Mountain, North Carolina

God Bless The Ice

Old Glory froze last night
In a crumpled swath, and now
Lumbers solid, like a beast of burden,
Against the smilaxed porch roof
In Alabama’s (sort of) icy, windy, freezy,
School-cancelling apocalypse.

And, oh, therein, is that heavenly lull,
That sweet second breakfast of
The bread of the Word.
The Word, unleashed from imperatives and carlines,
Says – and do I hear this? –
“For God so loved,
For God so loved,
For God so loved!”

God bless the ice that stilled the world,
So I can hear that God so loved!
~
Meditation on John 3:16

Love Song to the Light

Like an earthquake it was spoken that
‘The life was light of men.’
As He moves and as He breathes,
Light cracks open darkness’ den.
Implacable, strong-fingered are
The rays that scoffing spread.
Only darkness thrives in darkness,
And even that’s mere moving death.
Even that’s brief-tenured death.

When my child-heart was a cave
Wracked with fears and bears and pangs.
Light and life came like a dream,
And swaddled me in heaven’s health.
A chemical event in first and second waves,
First alight and then alighting,
To salvation’s perimeter land,
The border of Darkness Banned.

When rays, unbound, escape,
Fall into foolish shade,
Darkened souls see me, see You,
And drink the taste of day.
They see and know and praise!
Your call leads on to death’s dark door.
We stand and lantern wide
The way for friends to cross the sill,
To Dayspring’s ravishing side where

Our Groom sings for His bride.
~
Meditation on Matthew 5: 14 – 16; John 1: 1 – 14

Born Hungry

Baby came in a shocking rush,
Her first cry turned her pink.
Mama, there’s no going back,
Easy days are done.
Hold her warm and tight for now,
She’s born and hungry.

Kay hit Presidential,
Every single year.
She hung forever from the bar,
Chin two inches high.
The others felt a brand new pain,
An ache called
Playground hungry.

Della’s daddy folded on a
Hot September day.
The sky hung low, and
Earth, it cracked.
And Della fell inside,
Where she was rocked,
Hungry.

Hunger in the soul, hunger in the hands,
We’re all born in a hungry wind
Like flames upon the land.

“If Becky wore a gunnysack,
She’d make a magazine.”
Perfection looked so blessed,
And the beach trip seemed so grand;
But he never knew her by her name,
He was blind and hungry.

Blessed are the hungry, every hunger fed,
Fainting for the cold, cold water,
Reaching for the bread.

Bonnie threw the grief book
Across the empty room, hit the wall
Of a down-sized home,
He planned, but never saw.
Now every day the sun comes up
On Bonnie’s broken dream, and she’s
Born hungry.

There’s a place I’m sitting down,
A day the meal is set,
And all my hungers all my life,
In bread and wine are met.
I’ve been fainting for the cold, cold water,
Looking for the bread,
A fountain of the blessed water,
Hands that break the bread.
~
Meditation on Matthew 5: 6

A Carnivore Moment In The Garden

Bamboo bends with the breeze,
Leaves playing lightly as
A fiddle player’s fret hand.
White cat on the fence waits
Bloodthirsty over the burn pile, for a
Field mouse foraging
Under the drying stalks of
Fool’s paradise.
White cat, of
Feral face,
And dead-heart eyes,
Detaches.
Solly high at the feeder, Lip
Laired and dreaming,
White cat
Muscle-stalks away, lithey and
Oiled. Mouse sleeps the sleep of
The paroled;
Bamboo bends.

Herbivores of the Garden Testify

Lippity Hop nips his morning greens,
Ears tall and twitching at supple alert.
To Lippity, a leaf is fare of the gods of
Small creatures.
But Lip was littered boding that he, himself,
Is someone else’s leaf.
Not sure why. It’s confusing,
But there it is.
‘I, Lip, am someone’s leaf.’

Hence the living ears.

Hasn’t made him a cynic, though.
He remains impossibly placid.
Doubt, certainly,
But with benefit-of-the.

Only the back half of Lippity hops.
On a low leaf-hunt,
His forearms reach forth, first left and then right,
Then his rounded back end joins in a concerted
Heave and ho.

Lip’s ears don’t twitch the slightest
When Solomon strafes by, cutting the air.
Not friends, but fellow leaf and sap people.

His ears don’t configure at all
Toward Sir Charles of the Powerline
When Chuck and his shrew scrap
Over nut-gathering,
All-nighters with the guys – it’s the pressure.

Lip knows his fellows.

He does go brown-gray motionless,
At the juttering growl of a jake brake
On I-65.
Hits him in the solar plexus,
Because

Even he has eternity in his bones.