Illinois Night

I have to travel outside the city
I have to get away from
People and the fake little lights of people,
Erected against Nature to hold at bay the
Purity of stars.
Lurid lights, shining on weary people,
Casting a grim spell of weariness and emptiness –
Oh, wake up! Nature's Night is calling you!

But people would rather hide behind imposter suns,
Vainly grasping at a dream of permanent day,
Spreading their neon blight across the globe.
Who can blame them? They are afraid
That night will overtake them,
That the fierce chastity of the stars will undo them.

The stars keep silent vigil, looking for the ones
Brave enough to seek them, and silent enough to join cricket choirs
As they worship in lonely cathedrals.
But beware – the stars will engrave their beauty into
The deepest parts of your soul.

Crucifixus

A tired figure
Struggling against the Judean heat
And the cruel splinters of a cross
Scraping into his flayed back.
Trying to climb the hill,
Ears full of jeering, eyes full of blood,
Heart full of love.

"I thirst!" The soldiers looked up from their
Bickering and bartering.
"Hey, see if you can get him to drink from a sponge!
Wouldn't that be a great prank?
Here's some old vinegar – he's in for a surprise!"
He choked on the vinegar, but was not surprised.

Darkness, complete darkness
Even the soldiers were frightened.
"It is finished!"
Earth shaking, rocks exploding,
Priests covering their eyes in horror
At the exposure of the Holiest Place.
The world ended that day.

What was it like to live on after the end of the world?
Apostles crept around in fear
(Only natural – Eternal God had just been killed!)
Until the dawn broke on a group of women.
"He is risen!"
Not the end of the world; the beginning of the world.

Untitled (February 2013)

Would that I could purge
Love's perverse hold on me!
I'd laugh and bid Love leave
And walk away
Whistling.

Pure fantasy – Love is nobody's slave,
To be dismissed or summoned on command.
Rather, Love is master,
And I the slave.

If only I had the strength
To break his bonds asunder!
But how can I resist, struggle,
Even breathe,
With only half a heart?

Dear Orion

Oracles and priests of Persephone,
The birds cheerfully herald the coming of their mistress
And I am struck with the sudden pang of future loneliness –
Oh, Orion! My old friend!
Stay this year and see the Summer.
Must you constantly pursue your prey?
You know how futile it is
(Can a man really run as fast as a hare?)
And I need you to stay with me.
Spring is coming, but my soul
Is full of cold, ice, and dead leaves.

Oh, Orion! How can I face the Summer,
If my heart is still gripped by Winter?

Palm Sunday Meditation

A man on a donkey, crowds with palms,
Cries of "Hosanna" transformed to cries of "Crucify" –
These are not just the deeds of ancient man,
Brutish, uncouth, savage, unenlightened,
But my deeds.
Hypocrisy proclaims "Hosanna" and brashly swears fealty, homage.
Yet my secret cry is a whispered shout "Crucify";
Sinner, unclean wretch that I am.

Ash Wednesday

Ashen skies mark this solemn day -
"All must die." the priest reminds me.
As he smears a rude cross on my forehead,
I focus on the crucifix on his chest.
The Christ, twisted in pain for my sins.
Kyrie eleison.

Woe, woe, woe - I am a
Man of unclean lips.
I must die, for I have sinned.
Father, accept for the Christ's sake
My ash, my penance,
My contrite heart!
Christe eleison.

Untitled (January 27, 2012)

In your house

My eyes are cleared again,

And I see your designs

Of purging my heart.

Oh Father!  Forgive my idolatry –

I have worshipped at the altars

Of self, of love, of pride

And now foolishly lament their destruction.

Father, cast down every idol,

Spare no necessary pain,

And let me not forget

When I go out the gates again.

Contrails

White contrails of a jet,
Slide across the sky
And vainly struggle to maintain their identity
Rather than be absorbed by the drifting clouds.
For a moment, they boldly reflect the subtle sheen
Of the setting sun before dissipating into
The otherness of the clouds.
The pilot is clearly oblivious
To the plight of his pets –
Surely the jet’s offspring belong to him too?
But the pilot doggedly continues his flight
Away from the sunlight, towards the growing darkness.
My heart breaks for him,
That he should be on the edge of heaven,
And not see such a beautiful sunset.

Elegy to a Piece of Graffiti – Taylors, SC (December 2012)

An old, rusty water tower seems an unlikely place

For a landmark, for a symbol of undying love.

“JimBob loves Leah” –

Anonymously proclaiming their love

To the city.

But no more.

In Greenville, an icon of hope and comfort stood

Against the rain, against the rust

No matter what happened, one thing was certain:

JimBob loved Leah.

But now, grave doubts are cast into my mind –

Does he love her still?

Or has their love gone the way of so many others,

Fading, fading, fading

Until nothing more is left,

Than paint abandoned to chip and decay and fall off an old, rusty water tower.

Vandal!  I hope that by your wanton violence,

You have at least achieved your aims.

But then, what kind of woman

Demands destruction to prove devotion?