Tag Archives: forgiveness

Dear Pedestrian,

17 Apr

to have your eyes fixed on the scrap of sidewalk
always two steps ahead, despite this intersection,
is an exhibit.  It’s only an exit from the parking lot,
but I am here and I see the leaves and branches
of your wind tossed hair—how they soften, like dusk,
the hard bark of your expression.

A blunt couple, frozen, stands with car doors open
as if they expect you to do the unexpected.
And I, like a muttering magician, wave my hand
for you to cross, guessing you need something,
like a sense of place, to make your way east
along this boulevard.

But if stories are a way to see what happens,
and poetry a seed, you are both to me
when, by the corner of my bumper, you perform
a perfect hairpin and go back west, leave
my body churning its wonder and distress
in this, the failing flame of my forgiveness. 

Let A Rose

25 Nov

buttons and rose

Let a rose be all things beautiful and true; let the rain be you.
Let a button be forbearance; let your blouse
be faded blue. 
Let a shoelace be repentance;
let me stop and tie my shoe.
Let a rose be all things beautiful and true.

Let a rose be all things beautiful and true; let a sigh be you.
Let a button be forgiveness; let your fingers
push it through. 
Let a shoelace be a promise;
let me double knot my shoe.
Let a rose be all things beautiful and true.

Elephant

27 Oct

The elephant, the thick-heavy wrinkle,
Shows no movement.  
He stands in the room like a defendant.
Like old boots in a box, he may not walk again.  

I’d like to read, or watch TV, but there he is.  
The crushed sofa, the mangled love seat—
There’s no place to be.  
So, busily, we make the elephant a pet.

Busily, busily we ignore and he remains.  
Once, I reach around him.
Twice, you try to find me and (I know)
There’s almost-absolutely-no-one there.  

The ghost of my shadow tells you
To not worry the beast,
To not even think of mice or make a move
That might disrupt the elephanty peace.  

And though we want to forgive,
We cannot forget HIM.  
So, we go on tiptoe while he stands there:
A sad-sturdy brow and four enormous feet.

Broken

10 Nov

cracked_glass man on knees

Between us, on a tabletop of glass, a working hand
becomes a hammer.  Blood does not spill, it boils.  

Shards lament the ways we will not mend, and how
the heart, like a fractal, repeats a pattern of breaks

and splits when magnified.  My heart shoves blood
along a crooked line until I heed the rattle-crack

and attend the bang of anger.  The embittered rackets
rise until the broken pieces lay at rest between us.
 
 

 

 

 

The Violence Bearer

30 Oct

3.  The Violence Bearer

To recap, there is no virtue in me that changed the meaning of violence in my life.  But there is Jesus, who was subjected (in humble reliance on his Father’s goodness and loving-kindness) to the collective brutality of every sin.  On the cross He absorbed every violence that ever was, and ever would be.  By doing this he enabled the forgiveness of every sin (past, present, and future) for everyone who would call on him for forgiveness.

After all, every violation of God’s good law is ultimately against God and his son Jesus (and the Holy Spirit).  The historical figure of King David makes this very clear in his response to the prophet Nathan’s rebuke of him for killing Uriah and taking Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba.  (Continue…)