Poem 5-5-92

today 5 may, on a cloudy day, while the tulips are in bloom,
i sit alone with the god of heaven in a cluttered room.
An optimist they say i am; impractical, extreme,
telling to riot and hatred and distrust my honest theme,
which is that God (a funny word), who shirks not from disaster,
has named the vanquished Innocent his anointed and our Master.
Master – not as master to a fearful, thoughtless slave,
but one whose practice, skill, and patience let him pave
the way for us to learn from him what he both learned and taught;
to trust in God in everything.  This sickness i have caught,
And joyfully succumb, nor ever wish for healing,
because this trust brings forth the endless power of God revealing,
and revealing, and revealing, and revealing, and revealing, –
the power of hope that I am most ridiculously feeling:
the realm of absurd love, of concrete goodness, enfleshed spirit,
the word of truth proclaimed to all; if anyone will hear it.

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About therevr

A human being, striving to become more so.

Posted on May 5, 1992, in Old, Poetry, Reflective, Theological. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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