Tag Archives: nightshift

Monday Poem – “Alive to dead to having life”

Alive to dead to having life

I shivered
Then quivered
Then ummmed and ahhhed,
I couldn’t find a way to start,
I didn’t have the words to say
But like a child asked something anyway-
“How do I remember this moment?
Lord, how do I own it?
Good sir, I want to know it-
How do I make life a friend, not an opponent?”

He replied
“My little child-
Death to pride,
Death to lies,
And death to self!
This moment’s ripples will be felt
Through all the generations-
Beyond all imagination
But you have to die first (death to self).
This moment’s offspring will be plentiful
But first you have to die.
You see,
A child must die to silly things
And rise to the changes happening,
Then a bachelor dies on his wedding night,
To become a husband to his wife.
Then as a husband put himself away
And serve his queen both night and day.
Each and every sacrifice
Is a rite of passage ordained by Christ.
And that is how to love your life
To give up your ‘needs’, your ‘wants’ and ‘rights’”

I wanted to cry,
My Lord said I had to die?
I wanted to argue, crow and fight
But of course I could see my Lord was right
And besides, He had died the first death for me
When His naked Son lay on that tree.
He has obliterated my debt,
He has died that first death.
He has taken me into Him, now I am blessed!
He has laid my arguments to rest.
And may they rest in pieces on the floor,
May this moment last forever more.
From boy to man to child,
From alive to dead to having life.
From the lowest lows to highest heights.
From dying to self to living for Christ.

Monday Poem: “Over and Over Again”

Over and Over Again

As black as two in the morning spawning hate,
Your heart is dry; your love is late-
A well untapped of better things. You wait
With eyes-wide-closed you stare and paint.
One glance from you leaves others bruised.

I saw the cloud hanging over you
Like a falling kite,
Like a shadow cast from hidden light,
Like a deranged and mangy angel of the rotten kind
Sent to trample on your wandering mind
(King-hit-you from behind),
In times like these you better hide
Over and over and
Over and over again.

I saw a hoax laid like Kauffman’s grave,
Your name was changed and made profane:
a shame to friends and family,
a simple parody of what you used to be.
You’re not a man to me
But a stationery
Adolescent filled with hate and greed.

As pale as a shade of grey,
You’re old but in another way
So young and dumb
You have succumbed
To the darts of the enemy,
To the things you used to do
And to the things they put you through.

But then you put away those childish things,
I saw it all change in you
then change back.

I saw the cloud lift from over you,
Just like Lazarus turned backwards
and away from what is hazardous,
When you met your Maker (who never forsakes you)
Then it changed your nature.
There’s only one requisite to be alive
And that one thing is: you have to die
Over and over and
Over and over again.

Monday poem- “The incident”

The coincidence

The incident was no coincidence
But a necessary lesson to pause,
To stop and consider his flaws-
The things that need to change
Be rearranged
Or left the same.

In the future years
He learned not to worry about perfection
Or gaining affection,
And to just focus on the pause.

The incident taught him to pray,
Not the words to say
But an honest way,
And the incident taught him to live
And the incident taught him to love.
What a blessing
That his unfortunate “coincidence” was
Another lesson from above.

Monday Poem- “Tent (Night II)″

Tent (Night II)

We left the tent and ventured out
Quiet at first, then hysterical and fast
Not wanting to get caught by noise or dark
Or by anyone else about.

With the tent that housed us not in sight
We each submitted to adventures dares,
Our whispers failed to mask our scare-
It is a foreign world at night.

Even the most mundane finds
Provide mystical and magical awe
And are different objects than before,
When we leave the tent behind.

We play games and just pretend
That we are adults and not just small boys
Until the bushes move and make a noise
Then we bolt back to the tent-
Willing night to end.