The Newest Addition to My Room

The Thames at Westminster, Claude Monet

Fear And Trembling

Then David lifted his eyes and saw the angel of the LORD standing between earth and heaven, having in his hand a drawn sword stretched out over Jerusalem. 

I Chronicles 21:16

Inebriated, the old men stumble

Down the streets where broken bottles

Reflect the rays of moonlight on

The walls of brick and worn down stone.

The sawdust soaks the beer that falls

Out of their mumbling mouths.

Two pairs of graying eyes that turn

From shadow to shadow, looking for nothing.

Lazily they make their way

With bare feet sticking to sawdust and muck.

One says to the other with uneven breath,

“My friend, I’m bored to death.”

 
                            And then the sword struck.

Children of Light

light unfolds like a wrapped candy

budding into color on your shirt

winding,
             dripping
         down
               your
            hair

and curling up around your toes

it washes in your mouth when you smile

(and hides in your eyes)

it glides with us as we dance
       to the rhythm of the night.

we are the children of the light.

Mousie

The pitter-patter paints a picture

Slides along the bedroom door

And works its way into the kitchen

Glides across the granite floor

Onto the darkened wooden counter

Spills the milk set on display

And scurries in the open cupboard

Shrills with fear and runs away

For mother flicks the kitchen lights on

Flips the milk from on its side

And little mousie scurries homeward

Slips into his home inside

A Morning Haiku

Tears fall from a friend,
And this acidic water
Nourishes my roots.

Ponder Anew

Yesterday, as I was reading a book of poetry outside the library, a friend of mine walked by and asked in jest, "Are you pondering anew what the Almighty can do?" I laughed at his joke and kept on reading. Today, though, as I was reading another book outside and gazing at the grand tree that was providing shade for me I began to really think about that old hymn and verse. This week has been fast paced and rather stressful at times; lots of new faces and names and very little time for rest. But today I sat back and practiced that age old and often forgotten Christian virtue: rest (well...perhaps its not a virtue, but certainly a worthwhile practice). Today I rested and pondered anew what the Almighty can do.

T.S. Eliot

Tonight was the final meeting of my summer book club, and it didn't disappoint. Neither did the words of T.S. Eliot, whose Four Quartets we discussed. I sometimes forget how much I miss discussion of great books and ideas until I am doing it and can't imagine how I did without before. Nevertheless, tonight was harmonious. We discussed everything from Shakespeare to Anglo-Catholicism to Terrence Malick and film, and everything in-between.

However, it seems strange to be commenting on something just as or after it has happened (a subject we discussed tonight), and so I am going to end this post here with a section from the Four Quartets, though it also seems a crime only to read a section.

IV 

The dove descending breaks the air
With flame of incandescent terror
Of which the tongues declare
The one discharge from sin and error,
The only home, or else despair
     Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre-
     To be redeemed from fire by fire.

Who then devised the torment? Love.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
     We only live, only suspire
     Consumed by either fire or fire.

~T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding