Tag Archives: poetry

Prayer Quiver

Prayers are the arrows of the warrior,
Not aimed at the enemy’s heart,
But shot into the air.

Under attack from my enemy,
I fire arrows into God’s throne room,
Messages tied round the shafts.

They fall at His feet,
He picks them up and reads them,
He adds them to His collection.

Just as He saves our tears,
He saves our prayers,
They last for all time.

Stand against the enemy He says,
But don’t be mute like small-g gods,
Stand and pray in His image.

Fire round after round,
As many as it takes because,
He will never let your quiver go empty.

Drawing by Mark Zechin

Read more poetry here

White Silence Drowns Out Black Voices

Yes, I’ve been silent far too long,
And for this I repent.
I’ve tolerated my own indifference,
Which fed my silence, and made it fat.

Silent about hate,
Silent about fear,
Silent about what you’ve been going through,
Even though I can’t possibly understand it,
Because I’ve never lived it.

The howling of my silence now deafens me,
Now that I am awake to it.
Yes, I’ve been silent far too long,
And for this I repent.

All that out of sight is out of mind
Living leads to laziness.
Of course life appears good when
No one complains.

In my silence I couldn’t hear your complaints
That were right in front of me.
I was deaf to your cry and blind to your pain,
And so could not help but be silent.

Yes, I’ve been silent far too long,
And for this I repent.
Yes, I’ve been indifferent far too long,
And for this I ask forgiveness.

If you forgive and take my hand
And lift me up from my knees
I promise to walk with you on the hard road,
The road to redemption.

I’ve been silent far too long,
And my silence kept me from traveling
The hard road to redemption,
That is best walked with a brother.

Yes, I’ve been silent far too long,
And for this I repent.
Yes, I’ve been indifferent far too long,
And for this I ask forgiveness.

Read more poetry here

Coma

Some years ago a friend of mine shared a poem about an intimate and life-shattering moment. I responded, attempting to encourage her.

Many of us are raw and vulnerable now. Loved ones, family, friends, have died or are dying. Or we are afraid.

Such are the realities of life. And death.

We are exhorted to ‘Be happy with those who are happy,’ and let us also be quick to ‘weep with those who weep.’ (Romans 12:15)

Coma

There is no coming back, only
going forward.
There is blue
in your face, in your hands and feet.
A cool cloth is on your head.
The nurse appears precisely on the hour.
I understand the compassion of precision
for the first time:
there will be no moment in this interminability
when you are in pain.
I play all the most beautiful music
I can think of
on my phone:
Bach’s solo cello sonatas,
Lauridsen’s Lux aeterna.

(By the Rev. Jane A. Beebe, used with permission)

Coma, an Answer

Man is red, but Heaven is blue.
Man is hot, hot and bothered;
Christ is cool, cool and relaxed;
Relaxed in invitation, “Follow me.”

Blood is red, but Heaven is blue.
In the violet of blessed sleep,
We lie between,
For a time.

Sleep is abandonment,
A time in which all must trust in the Lord.
Sleep or go mad.
Trust, or go mad.

The Great Commandment
Continues after death.
Love is happy duty,
And duty, happy love.