Mirrors
This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him and saved him out of all his troubles. Psalm 34:6 NASB
That Blessed Curse
When did I discover I was falsely made?
The day I first noticed no one knew
That underneath my skin I grew
Some other way
When did I uncover my hopeless agony?
The day I saw me throw away
The ones who wanted me to stay
Forever true
When did I admit I had lost the fight?
The day I first realized
How empty were the open eyes
In my mirror
When did I remember He could heal the sick?
The day I found graveyard clothes
Wrapped around my eyes and nose
Inside of me
When did I discover my illness made me well?
The day I fell into the tomb
And found it was a child’s room
Freed from Hell
FACES
Lizard skin, bulletproof.
China doll, stand aloof.
Old crow, fast and easy.
Sour puss, real sleazy.
Little pet, tough as nails.
Real slut, always bails.
Air head, rants and raves.
Good ol’ boy, Jesus saves.
Top banana, corporate man.
Red neck, Ku Klux Klan.
Scared silly, old hag.
Big bully, real drag.
Chicken shit, full of doubt.
Ivy league, down and out.
Real loser, good in bed.
Mental case, walking dead.
Variety by endless score
Tombstone, resume, epitaph.
Molded into fleshy form
Make us cry, make us laugh.
It is the land of faces
I try them on for size
And every mask fits just like skin
Stretched tight around my eyes.
1991
Topical Index: Psalm 34:6, curse, faces, poem
Wow, intense!
Thanks, Skip, for your poetic reminder.
Our 20-20 vision equips us for perfect darkness
and all the illusions and deceptions that await us there.
We see, but we do not perceive.
We hear, but we do not understand.
Until our greatest spiritual blessing is revealed.
The gift of Himself . . . staring us right in the face!
Hellow skip.I think one of us needs a vacation.Mabey a nice beach in the caribian would do the trick.
Hi Skip,
Thank you for sharing some of your poetry with us. Through it, you’ve just given words to some of the feelings and some of the faces that many of us have felt and/or tried on over the years. But, thanks be to God for opening our eyes and bringing about circumstances that force us to look deep into our “Well of Grief” so we can experience His perfect healing.
Below is another good poem by David Whyte that John often uses on the Men’s Weekends he leads twice a year.
THE WELL OF GRIEF
Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface of the well of grief
turning downward through its black water
to the place we cannot breathe
will never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water, cold and clear,
nor find in the darkness glimmering
the small round coins
thrown by those who wished for something else.
David Whyte
from
“Close to Home”
English poetry…..
Just a bridge too far for my understanding.
Sorry it was obtuse. Perhaps I need to write poems in Dutch? 🙂
I’d like to see you try! 🙂
Seriously, I miss words (Obtuse? Where’s my dictionary!), I miss culture, I miss figures of speech, so I miss meaning. Doesn’t that sound very much like the problems we meet when translating Scriptures?
For instance:
Little pet, tough as nails.
Real slut, always bails.
Air head, rants and raves.
Good ol’ boy, Jesus saves.
The only words I understand are… Jesus saves (if I understand them at all!) Let alone what you MEAN to say.
Yes, I see your point. All of these expressions are really American slang.