A Chill in the Air

On Tuesday you cried

upon my shoulder,

trusting Jesus to save

your soul.

On Friday you played

the entertainer, making light

of fearful faces in the room.


You left us in November

as the cold was setting in.


You danced in the face of death,

a can of beer in your hand.

But morning came with raindrops,

in your bed you would remain.

You communicated in silence,

lids weighted with eternal sleep.


You left us in November

as the cold was setting in.


We ate brownies topped

with ice cream, while the lesbian

hugged the Catholic and God’s

Spirit sweetly smiled.

We laughed through tears

as we remembered; said

our prayers to fill the void.


You left us in November

as the cold was setting in.


I said goodbye on Thursday,

and left roses in the snow.


The Lamb Is Slain

Unimaginable Love pours its richest perfume on dusty feet

Innocence drinks of death’s dark poison

Holiness breaks forth in bloom

Resurrection Found in a Place of Death

Ode to a man esteemed of God, Joseph of Arimathea, puller of nails.

Man of wealth, member of the Council
Secret follower, waiting for the Kingdom
Made to choose.
Can’t condemn.

Go to Pilate, ask permission
Buy some linen, ask for help.
Can’t leave him there.
Can’t leave him there.

Nails pulled, body taken down
Blood stains on my clothes.
Why am I here?
Why am I doing this?

Wrap in linen, add the spices
Nicodemus give me help.
Where are his friends?
Where is the family?

What good will it do?
He’s dead, he’s gone, miracles are over.
What will it cost me?
My position, my status, my wealth?

Nothing to give him but a tomb in the rock.
What do I get back?
What difference will it make?
My tomb, my site of death,
is now a resurrection place.

Published in: on May 11, 2009 at 2:28 pm  Leave a Comment  
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