“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” – Matthew 5:8

Visible God,
surrounding us with yourself
for all to see and touch,
so many are pure in heart,
even more, pure in soul,
and yet the brutes come upon us,
once again, 
blurring our vision with their designs;
with each beat of our hearts
take their ways
and cast them into the outer fire
where the dross of disregard and danger
melts into something useful
to be used for blessing all
who desire to see you in your fullness.

“…but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”  – Luke 18:14

God of the Pedestaled and of the lowly base,
in the midst of the upright and tumbled
we strive to climb,
we yearn to settle down,
seeking a bit of fortune and some fame,
deliver us from those who
only clamber noisefully upward
to the heavens of their own making
while stepping, worse eliminating,
the ones who are happy with step-by-step.

“And when was it that we saw you?” – Matthew 25:41

God who hides,
God in plain view,
God who dwells
with those who are hungry,
with those who are thirsty,
with the stranger, the naked and the sick,
and with those in prison,
we cannot ask you to give us anything
when we have given nothing.
So when we are brought to judgment
with goats and sheep all around us
wrap us gently in your wrath.

Blood Ink

     “I am used to
      making ink from my own blood.” - Abdulla Pashew

I sighed with relief when evil passed by
unaware of its existence while mechanisms
for bringing goodness began to turn with the 
first bird call of the morning to raise the sun.

Remaining anonymous carries ferocity yet
dancing unknown steps for something 
calls the poets to liberate pens and letters
onto pages stained with the marks of history.

“When you come into the land that the LORD your God is giving you…” – Deuteronomy 18:9

Giver of Life and Land,
Who demands our obedience
Against the evil ways of destruction
Of the prior inhabitants, we wonder
If the land and what we own 
Is really ours, or perhaps our very
Thinking that it is becomes the
Path to our own destruction
And folly which you warned us
Against.  Make us mindful and
Aware so as to give.

Today’s reading includes life’s most difficult verses.

The Golden Rule presents itself first followed 
by all those things, yes, things, that create human division
between sects and castes and classes and circles.

Discourses on inequality and the tricks played by those 
who attempt to make us believe in the banality of wealth
divert those already ignorant of Divine ways.

Everyone searches for their hidden motives of sacrifice
preparing for a moving day to Easy Street which never
arrives on individual demand.

Legends fall into trouble once again barely able to keep
us awake through the drip of words leaking from books
read in one sitting of possibility madness.

Peaceful creation waits for the hubbub to waste away
into convention and tradition before appearing and  
glowing like the sliver of the month's new moon.

The Lost Ages

Between hope and sorrow
found in spirituals played
in minor keys dwells a note
releasing the captives into
a sweet place of freedom.

The doe keeps her head down
eating the sweet and desired 
delicacies from neighborhood
flower beds while the owners
sleep the sleep of the dead.

A return to correct ways of living
postponed by a prodigal display
of fragile members demanding
an accounting of the lost ages
lives only in the dreams of beggars.