Psalm 4


Ripe grain rippling under scarred and calloused hands.

This year harvest will be full of dancing,

mouths spilling wine in laughter….the heart of creator and created mingling mutual feelings of satisfaction.

Sunshine beaming between each frail stalk bending in the breath of heaven and earth –




the word bends over me like a shadow in the dark while im asleep beneath my blankets –



oh lovely dreamless life where i dont exist



i wake


already my heart is calling you.

Searching for the tar to fill the empty pits in my heart –



my heart rent – and rending still.

like old fabric

still catching my unswallowable tears…

i crawl far into the smallest space i can find to shut out the screaming

and i beg God to take my life.


i imagine if i dont exist then i cannot feel the way i feel.

or maybe if i am gone then the sea will become calm.


i beg.


i beg.


i beg

And i know that i dont have to beg

but i beg and the waiting seems to lengthen the space of time a day takes up –

i beg


Give me relief.

Distress seizes me and throws me against walls

that maybe i have built myself…

– battered i cry “have mercy on me!”


I am made in the image of the God of all creation.




Creation which contains a hundred million little wonders but I

I am made in the makers image and when i rise and speak i hold the power of life and death

and yet

when i walk and when i talk

what is this trash rolling out of my mouth?

Can i speak like this and not let go of my own glory?


Like a bride in chase of – what?

I lift the edges of my glorious garb and i run into the muddy lake laughing like a drunken fool –

for a photo.


He stands in the setting sun

The last rays lighting him up like a golden statue and his face is locked in a look of absolute love and confusion.


i leave the lake


mud smeared high on my thighs.

i brush hair from my mouth smearing mud on my face

and i lift my face for a kiss.




his eyes gaze into mine with confusion.


his voice is hoarse, and broken.

“come unto me, you, who are weary and burdened, and i will give you rest.”


He pulls off his white vest,

his calloused fingers fumble at the buttons of his shirt,

his rose corsage has fallen into the mud around his polished shoes,

he strikes the rock and water gushes forth,

he lays out his shirt so i can sit,

then he kneels,

and he washes the mud from me,

and i can see his heartbeat in his neck –

it thuds against me.



He lifts me close to his heart and carries me home.

i cannot fathom the depths of this mans heart.


glory to shame.

glory to shame.


delusional desires.

they swamp me.

they fill all my restless searching engines.


i hear a voice singing

while i sleep,

its singing over me

before i said a word

before i took a breath

he was dreaming over me


my friends ask me as the twin towers fall in a cloud of dust that fills the street like a funeral stopping traffic –

They ask me.

they ask me about the one who pulled me from the mud, and washed me, and carried me

Built for me



as they watch

the towers falling

their mouths gaping



they doubt my story.


they doubt good will ever be seen

after seeing something so horrible as dust returning to dust




how the dust stabs his heart


much more than we will ever know

as a hundred thousand million prayers wrench him from his sleep…

the little boy sits up inside the simple dirt dwelling and his heart is pounding fit to explode,

his hand clutches his chest as sobs roar to break free – hyperventilating –

he squeezes his eyes shut, but still all the faces and prayers and realities rush into him unbidden…

his hand folds up on his shirt, twisting it in his grasp-  and the sobs jerk through him like a rope uncoiling under the weight of a falling anchor




sobbing silently,

biting his lips to hold the sound back,

“Father, i know you hear me! I am willing!”

The sweat glistening on his face

like blood in the dark


the morning light falls thru the slats of the house on his bent and weary head,

he has interceded on their behalf thru the night,

he stumbles from his blankets, out into the cool morning air and he gathers some sticks and a basketfull of leaves  and reenters


his little hands forming a careful little pile…

he starts a fire for his mother

enjoying the musky dusky smell of the fire.


the fire lights up the dark circles beneath his eyes,

he knows that peace is his,

if he wants…

“i want,” he whispers to the fire

and it leaps up like waves to the bidding sky.


i lay down

at night i thank God for sleep

as i fall


fall away from every worry

Into his ceaseless song.


Psalm 3





Even i when i conjure up the image i feel a tinge of remorse and pitty.

Kneeling on the ground is my enemy.

The one accusing me night and day

and his face is bashed, bruised on one side, and blood is glistening, drooling off the end of his chin, he spits out broken chunks of teeth, and for that moment, pity rises into the pit of my stomach from some God given place.

His lips are split and dripping blood,

and then his eyes rise.

They are grinning and the same evil flashes through them as before, and though the words slip out almost unintelligibly he is spitting out curses still, blood flying from his mouth

and he is grinning without remorse.



i sleep in the presence of this

night and day this flock of demons surround my bed

my head

and they chant and demean who i am and who i was made to be

some of the things they say are so true but God knows ive spoken a 1000 appologies already

and still the accusations fly like darts deep into my raw and trembling soul.

Their hooks pulling at me relentlessly,

dragging me closer and closer to despair…

And He.

He ducks in front of me and offers to take the arrows, but my shame makes me duck out of the way


He is singing

conjuring up beauty in my darkness

peace in my craziness…

sometimes i pause to let the words sink healing into my desperate places…

and then shame.


Shame makes me cover my ears and duck for cover

When actually the ducking is what again exposes me to the throng of those who rise up against me –

They taunt me,

Gods not protecting you! He doesnt care!

But he is standing right there.

Large enough and brave enough –

Already he has offered to stay before me and take every accusation and every flogging, every arrow, every blow…


I sleep and my heart stops…

In my unrest my tears come and i cry out –

He hears.

He is standing on a mountain in the moonlight

in the early morning

as the heat rises

he is pinned there like a bug to a trophy wall

suspended between heaven and earth

and my cry comes to him and he gives up his life –

In an instant.

Without another thought.

He gives up his life to bestow on me.

– He sustains me

and i wake.


I wake like the sun jumping over the horizon




His love washes over me

annointing me with his affections once again.




He bestows happiness on me when i least deserve it.

He protects me when i least deserve it.


Glory: His love washing over me.


Arise o Lord, and break the teeth of the ten thousand who surround me as i sleep.

Psalm 2


You wouldn’t think you could contain the wind,

or harness the power of the sea

if you were sensible.


But you are not.


Sensing only your desires

and your pride

you bend the world around your perceptions.

How it is

and how it is not

they are bent to match your will

your thoughts.

Contained in your mouth as you roll the thoughts around like a digestible lump of sugar

You form your lifes direction

Confident that Gods will is irrelivant.


The wind shakes the leaves.

The leaves whither and fall useless to the ground.

Gathered up they are thrown in the fire…and they disolve into ashes…

beauty vanished,

from dust to dust…


He laughs, the laughter disolves to deep pain inside his chest.


The impossible does not exist in his vocabulary

Yet, he holds himself back

And he wills his words to stand.

That breath would continue to fill our lungs,

that the sun continue to rise and fall

that the seasons come and go

faithful as his first command.


And man wills his own destruction

the whole world heaves in the restraints of the laws laid out for it

that it produce faithfully

for the unfaithful.


He bends and returns the fish to the sea

his lovingkindness stretches out its hand and replaces the fish in the ocean…

Yet, they refuse to stay within the realm he made them to flourish in.

They fling themselves out onto dry land.

And they eak out an existance, a mere flopping under brush…

Yet he yearns to see them swimming.

The depths stay deserted but for a few who plummet far beyond sight into the mysterious depths!

He bends low and his heart pounds with joy

as the sea creatures wriggle through the water – and discover.

As they discover, his heart pounds in ways he only dreamed of

oh, but the fish on land.

Something deep inside him where no mind has imagined can be feelings – something tears painfully, and again he reaches out,

a hundred million times past what patience we credit him with, he reaches out and returns them to the ocean…

he calls out “come! Enjoy happiness! Choose life!”

And some, few, begin to swim.

The rest refuse.

“You confine and restrict us!”

He laughs bitterly at their accusations and they thrust themselves into their “freedom”.

Yes, he placed land nearbye…but not for them.


You would think terror would be more than a man nailed to wood,

Does it terrify you?

This is how he terrifies his enemies.

He allows them to strip him naked,

and beat him until he should have died,

and then he drags his own coffin up a hill

and he is nailed to wood his own hands have fashioned,

and he is left to suffocate.

And this,

this is his battle cry.


Does this invoke fear in you?


Be warned.


A refuge and a warning.


He who did not spare his own son, will he spare you?


He who did not spare his own son, how will he not also give up all things for you?


Love so crazy and unexplainable.

Can you explain it?

Can you out cost it?

Reckless crazy love.

It is afraid of nothing:

But for you.

That you would reject love

and life…


He offers.


Will you accept?

Life and love abundantly.

Unstoppable love.