Hands

In hands lie powers great and true,
to help or hurt, to make things new.
In hands the power to give or take,
to love, to harm, create or break.
Spread wealth to others, gather to you.

It was hands that rained the blows,
on pure man's back and tore his clothes.
Hands on the end of arms spread wide,
when on a cross in love he died.
With open hands his love he showed.

And when he rose again on high,
returning homeward to the sky,
a mission he gave to be his hands,
to heal and serve in all the lands.
His powers in our own hands lie.

To our human hands power he gives
for good or evil, while we live.
Within each man does dwell the choice,
on how his hands will speak their voice,
using them to condemn or to forgive.

Hands we can open in embrace,
hands wipe the tears from saddened face.
Hands given to another in act of love,
that takes the form of purest dove,
and shows to us his special grace.

Tis hands that raise the gifts on high,
where blood and body hidden lie.
Hands are laid upon the head,
recall the spirit from the dead,
and bring new life like morning sky.

Yet our hands can bring also pain,
power to destroy the crop and scatter grain.
With hands we can be agents of hate,
destroying good others create.
Hand are given to the evil and insane.

Decide then how your hands will be used,
for at life's end we do not draw, but only win or lose.
Victory's determined in part by hands.
Were they used to love or meet selfish demands?
Your hands will tell your life's story, so choose.

Glowing Crowns

sunlight on trees in fall



Gleaming the sunlight blazes,
golden gleaming.
Lights afire regal, precious stones,
the jewels ablazing,
That sit on monarchs' lofty heads,
with glory crowning.

Rubies, perdots, bright topaz,
in splendor sitting.
Crown the tall tree-heads
in sunlight glowing.
Majestic stand like kings and queens,
their kingdom ruling.

At last the weary monarchs,
crowns removing,
send gems dancing, twirling to the ground,
a carpet glowing.
To make way for new crowns, new jewels,
new life springing.

Hunger

written during a time I was fasting

Behold, the feasts of the world are spread out.
Feasts of power and wealth are prepared.
From the farthest corners of the world they come,
offering all sorts of worldly pleasure.

They offer the might of kings and princes,
they are prepared in their banquet halls.
The wealth of Solomon, of all the world is set upon the table,
riches and powers and pleasures of the world.

I see these feasts, oh God, and my heart is empty.
The hunger of my soul does not abate.
What can quench this unutterable longing?
What feast is there where my hunger shall be sated?

For the feasts of the world set before me do not sustain.
If I feast on them still I will hunger.
They have no power to fill me up,
they do not satisfy my longing for something more.

You alone, my God, can satisfy me!
I will find lasting nourishment only in your grace
Not like the fleeting satisfaction of worldly feasts is my God,
but his love will fully satiate me.

The feasts of the world give me nothing.
When I partake of them still I hunger.
God alone will satisfy my cravings.
His grace is filling as meat and wine, like good food.

My God, My God, how my soul longs for you!
How I hunger daily for your graces!
My spirit is consumed by need of you.
Without you I would surely perish.

Your words, my Lord, give me strength.
They comfort me like food does a starving man.
You sustain me with your essence, with your very being.
For you my soul is longing.

I am in great need of your Spirit, Oh God!
My soul longs to be full of your grace.
It is pining to be filled with you,
to slake it's thirst with your love.

When you fill me I am satisfied,
while without you I wander hungry and destitute.
Therefore I approach as a beggar,
I beg, my God, for the scraps of your love, your mercy.

But your generosity knows no bounds,
instead of scraps you have given me a feast!
My soul is overwhelmed by your open-handed goodness,
you give contentment to my soul!

Will You

another poem after time in prayer and Adoration

Will you hear the cries of the wounded around you?
Will you see their affliction, take pity?
Will you answer? Will you step forward?
Will you fight? Will you bleed? Will you bear the wounds?

Will you be content with weaknesses?
Will you bear suffering?
Will you be open to total sacrifice?

Will you bear ridicules?
Will you be insulted, slandered?
Will you be hated?
Will you die each day?

Will you open yourself to unknown joy?
Will you let yourself love as never before?

Will you cast yourself into the ocean and find firm ground?
Will you step into the darkness and thereby find light?
Will you bear the pain and thereby find joy?
Will you give your life away but to find it once again?

Common

at a time I was particularly fed up with idiocy and academia, which can often be one and the same.

Give me those who live and bleed and die.
Give me the man who weary in body seeks to live the good life.
Give me the woman full of hurt who still loves.
Those who wander on the streets and scratch out a living,
who harbor in their hearts hope for their children,
keeping nothing for themselves.

They have truly loved, truly felt, truly wept, truly lived.
They live unfettered by theories and academic babble,
spewed forth by apes who masquerade as men,
who proclaim man as high and excellent,
and in the next breath reduce him to an animal.

How much I would rather be ruled by those who see life clearly:
poor in learning,
but rich in life and common sense.

The Morning Shield

inspired by the sunrise I can see from my office.

The morning shield is rising,
on blue fields swiftly rising,
and the shadows now are flying,
as he casts his light abroad.
And his eyes are bright and blazing,
like white hot flames are blazing,
and he's clothed in armor dazzling,
flame robed and golden shod.

His battle horn is blowing,
the call to battle blowing,
and the notes are fiercely flowing,
o'er field and mountain tall.
In forests dark they're echoing,
in tangled forests echoing,
in canyons dim they're bellowing,
as they herald evening's fall.

The shadows he is piercing,
with sharpened spear is piercing.
No hidden place he's missing,
as he calls forth the day.
And Apollo's steeds he's driving,
and dark before him driving,
and the shadows now are dying,
as he drives the dark away.

The demons now are wailing,
the shades and shadows wailing,
for their power sure is failing
against this shield of might.
With bright steel he's destroying,
their deadly hold destroying,
and they, brightness abhorring,
flee from his blazing light.

New hope in hearts he's kindling,
new life he now is kindling,
and souls now joyfully singing,
from darkness lift their eyes.
They hearken to his calling,
come marshall to his calling,
for they see the shadows falling,
and the night before him flies.

The morning shield is rising,
like Son of Man is rising,
who death's dark grasp defying,
brought life and light anew.
As he rose in glory shining,
like sunlight brightly shining,
that brings hope with each new dawning,
and lights the morning dew.

The Dome and Spire

inspired by the view of DC from my office building and my thoughts on politics in general.

On wings of dawn the sun does rise, a golden spire,
and gleaming rays alight on dome and spire
that stand amidst the sound of cry and moan,
of those wandering the kingdom, lost alone.
The gluttonous for power and snake tongued liars,
sit their in vice and power on their thrones.

Forgotten now their noble call, the call to serve.
From new and deadly tasks they will not swerve.
Those who once they served now denied both life and breath,
They trample the oppressed to dust and death,
those whose backs with heavy loads do curve.

Bickering these power hungry jackals sit in golden halls
devouring defenseless lives with hungry maws.
Then turning round with serpent hearts and eyes,
feed the people's fears with evil lies.
As they cackling gather power neath their paws.

Where now are servants true, to do what must be done?
Who'll save their people dying like sinking sun.
Truly unless they come with speed and haste,
on deadly paths our kingdom has been placed,
to a place of hell and misery, never undone.