TABLE FOR FOUR

At the table,

You   my very love   and I,

And the ghosts of our previous

Others.

This I observe:  sometimes they

Insert a sarcastic phrase,

Other times they exist in silence

Within our hearts.

 

BEFORE CHRISTMAS

It is Christmas,

Nearly,

And we pray for hope and love and

Peace. We search for

Clarity, beg the Lord for healing.

What else do God's people pray for,

The preacher asks,

And sitting there in the pew,

In the cushioned wooden pew,

I am overcome with

Trembling.

There is so much to be grateful for,

And so much that can be

Lost.

 

WEEKEND

It is raining

Beautiful nourishing rain,

But deathlike,

All my weekend plans are buried

In the wet earth.

I am limp with ingratitude,

Teary with indignation,

Yet a sane little shred of my soul

Calls out to Jesus   and he comes and

Takes my hand.

 

 STUNG

Love stings,   and I think there's

More pain than

Sweetness.

After all how many roses has

He given me?

Only a few.

And each one came with

A multitude of

Thorns.

 This gift,

A kiss, soft as

A rose petal,

Oxygen

To the soul.

SOUL

I miss you and miss you,

Wailing   as I am

With loneliness and fear.

Young

But aging,   old but getting young,

There is blood all around,

The Blood of the Lamb,

And mine,

Mixed

With our singular breath.

WRITTEN IN THE STARS

This day of love and pain when

Your soul was traced

In the clouds,

Winds came,

Breathing onto stars, thus

Creating

A galaxy of love.

STAR

For your birthday I would give you

A constellation of

Blue stars,

And still you would not

Love me.