Daily Archives: August 18, 2003

Dust

Tossed aloft by

Winds that sweep the prairie soil

Blowing who knows where,

Clouding the air,

Till dark as night

It moves along.

 

And with it goes

The hearts of prairie men

Dried up and broken from too much

Tilling of the soil.

 

Dreams like the dust

Blow off into the sky

Obscured by reason

Till they fade away and hope is gone.

Still the dust

Blows on.

 

Our fathers feet were

Planted deeply here

Now ours are torn by wind and drought

And we move on.

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Untitled 2 The struggle

Hunched down under

The weight of all you are

You want to get out of this crowd of fools

It’s an upward struggle

And they’re pushing you  

Towards the edge of the abyss

And you want to run

 

You can’t leave it behind

Drag it like a ball and chain

The weight of your world,

All your generation,

You want to make them see

All that they could be

All that they are becoming.

 

But they’re moving blind

And they’re not moving up.

No ones moving towards the light.

 

The edge seems ever closer

As feet slip towards

The chasm of lost souls.

And you want to yell

But no one listens as you scream.

They’re moving on

 Like the scum on a stream.

 

Like a living nightmare

Like an unvoiced scream

You can watch it happen

Like on a muted screen

They keep moving, moving

You’re pushed aside by the crowd

And you’re trampled down

 

They’re moving on

But not moving up.

No ones even looking towards the light.

 

And you want to scream

But no sound comes out

You’re trapped inside

And you can’t get out

Till you grab ahold

Of his bleeding hands

And he lifts you up.

 

Now you’re moving on

On a brand new path

You’re moving steady towards the light.

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Mother's Cry

I’m mad at you God.

I wanted it all to be perfect

A loving husband and good kids

That did what I expected

Now look at what You’ve done!

 

Did I not follow where You led?

Did I not listen?

What happened to the plans

That I concocted?

What are You doing?

 

It hurts to be a mother

With all my parent wishes.

I’ve tried to do Your will

I’ve tried to teach them

How can they banish You ?

 

I’ve still no answers

To my anguished pleas

When will they see?

When will they hear?

God please answer me!

 

I look up for Your face

Can’t see for tears

Feel nothing now but love

In my pain, You take me in Your arms

And say I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

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Thoughts on Mother’s Day

Why do you get so sentimental on the one day of the year honoring mothers?

Do you think somehow one day will compensate for all the times when in frustration

I have asked for help and been ignored?

Is this a day to scrub clean the slate of misdemeanors?

To right the list of everything gone wrong?

 

I am a mother and feel abused by good intentions to glorify my role by shallow means.

You ask me what I would like to have, to do, on this one day

And quietly I say We could go out for dinner.”

When all I want could not in a million dinners

Not in a million days be satisfied.

 

My child by birth or melded to my heart by choice, look deep into my eyes.

I want you to enjoy all life’s best things, accomplish where I’ve failed, sing where I’ve cried.

I’d have you search what heaven alone can give.

Your gift most precious to me’d be

A life of faith that’s lived in joy for God.

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Confession

Everything I really wish for seems, 

All my unspoken dreams,

So out of reach.

My attitude so self absorbed

Grace hardest to achieve.

 

Sleepless, I sit awake at night.

Machining words in space.

Confession costs

If I confess, then I must  change

And what if I cannot?

 

Sometimes I hate the ones I love

And tottering on the brink

Of violence.

Slash with words irretrievable

Once they are spoken.

 

O Great God my Father!

In love you promised me

Forgiveness.

Redeem, Please make me yours again.

And set me free.

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The Climbing Tree

We have the best climbing tree in all the town.

Under its shade and in its branches

Things go on that only it could tell.

Children climb

Lovers cling

And insobriety takes a rest.

 

Do they think you don’t know, O ancient wood

And store it up within

Veins among pith and resin?

You watch silent

They unaware

That you report to the Almighty.

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Joy

It is harder to write of joy

Than sorrow.

But one without the other

Is either

Heaven

Or Hell

 

To be filled with irrepressible

Delight

Is a pleasure known only

To long

Time

Lovers.

 

So do not strive too hard

For pleasure.

It comes unfettered

Only

In the

Hereafter.

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