Five Haiku’s

My Child

Her tears were falling

washing memories away

of the empty crib.

Pilate

He sits at table

reaches for the blood red wine

with his blood stained hand.

Good Friday

Day has become night

the condemned slowly die

the people walk away.

Maundy Thursday

Bread is broken open

dirty feet cleansed with his tears

as wine becomes blood.

Love Lost

In the dim moonlight

I reach out to feel your warmth

in that vacant space.

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The Wait

Now we wait

in the midst of the noise

we wait

the anticipation grows

the need for light intensifies

our hearts are not filled

with the goods being hawked

so we get more

thinking to fill the emptiness

that will never be filled

so the soul waits

knowing what we do not

knowing that the true light

is so near, yet, so far

it knows our needs

even as we run

from the love reaching out

touching us deeply

and in the silent watches

we stand still

hearing the whispers of life

of peace on earth for all

The Wait

I come to this place

to find myself imagining

where is my God

in the wildness of the wind,

where do I go to listen

for that voice so dear,

to once again hear that call

and feel the spirit within,

the wilderness is cold

the heart is broken

and now I stand here

in supplication and prayer

seeking the divine Logos

to speak to my darkened self

calling me from my tomb

into the light of the living One.

The Train Home

Train wheels clatter

passing cities and towns,

fields and meadows

through the clutter of broken buildings

garishly painted by graffiti artists

past rolling hills

at one time family farms

white sand beaches

with ocean views

waves crashing on shore

white mist veiling the scene

people walk the sandy strip

some alone staring down

others hold hands,

children skip and play

life passes as we cling to one another

conversations overheard

a mother talking about her son

softly cries as she whispers

buzzing, beeping cell phones

sending and receiving

secretive messages

thumbs fly across mini screens

replying as fast as they are received

a young child sleeps

secure that her mother’s love will not abandon

on this train,

some get off

others get on

life on this train won’t stop

on the wall

JESUS

in bright colors

the promise of the rainbow

on a train heading home.

Thrift Shop Volunteers

They do not materialize

with gossamer wings

no ethereal,

other worldly light

surrounds their bodies

they make no grand predictions

to young virgins

or calm the fears of shepherds

out in the darkened fields

instead they are just there,

every day,

with no expectations

helping forgotten people

listening to the stories

no one else will listen to

holding a hand

when needed

being a light of hope

in a world gone dark

doing this for no wage

or any praise

they minister in the wilderness

giving comfort to all

then go home in the evening

their light still shining

in the hearts of those they touched.

Advent Calls

In the depths of the heart

a voice whispers

awaken, O Man, awaken

the first light is lit

the world awaits

the maidens have trimmed their wicks

and still you slumber

awaken to the worlds needs

awaken to the song of humanity

the cries of the innocent

that haunt our souls

the angel speaks softly

in a voice of thunder

Wake, O Man, Wake.

I Need to Stop

I think I need to stop,

just stop.

Not slowdown,

not take it easy

no, just stop

just don’t move

and feel the earth

under my feet

feel the air

on my face,

listen

as the trees rustle

and the birds sing.

Just stop

because

it’s the only way

to feel,

hear,

smell

and know

that I’m connected

to this earth,

to nature’s movements,

connected to the stars

in the heavens

as they reflect

Divine love

in the dust we share.