Friday, 26 June 2009

june rose

Wild roses bloom in June
When the car windows are wide open
They are the fragrance of the highway
They hold the hidden joy of the forest
Within five smooth fingers

Wild roses are beautiful in June
When the sun shines on us all night
And the pelicans return to the river
And the world returns to warmth
Caressed by five smooth fingers

Wild roses beckon in June
But hold me at a distance with thorns
To gather their nectar is to bleed
Love them loosely or they will wilt
In five clenched fingers


Tuesday, 23 June 2009

unfinshed dream

In a misty dream I saw your face
Tears blur the lines of distinction between fact and myth
And for a moment I hover, suspended between the firmaments
Then a river of salt washes to the wide, wide sea
And I go with it

We all have islands you know
And there are some waters which can never be crossed
I will set my feet down firmly on red earth
We are humans after all
. . .


Monday, 22 June 2009

Abraham again

Abraham, I’m glad I can tell you my secrets. (The trees may have ears out here, but they are always discrete.) This ancient path is perfect for sorting them out, sorting me out. I guess I want to say thanks for putting up with a straggler like me. I think I’m learning the way. I think I can make out the contours in the earth now. I think I’m learning what to take with me and what to leave behind. All my tears have evaporated, leaving tiny pillars of salt to remind me not to look back.


Tuesday, 16 June 2009

breaking camp

Hey Abraham, would you give me a hand with these cardboard boxes? I never knew so much stuff could come out of one little tent. I don't really want to talk about leaving yet, so let's just keep busy. Just stuff those blessings in with that pile of promises over there. If you get tired, we'll take a nap under the tamarisk tree you planted. It's big enough now to provide shade for two. Maybe God will whisper in our dreams. Isn't that just like Him?


Friday, 5 June 2009

good stuff

Just think about it:

Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.
(James 1:17, NASB)

How can we doubt His goodness? How can we not see His light every day? How can we not live in and out of thanksgiving?

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