Tuesday, June 01, 2010

POEM: The Poetry That Is A Church (Version 1)

Among the faithful and the doubters,
In the presence of loyal sons
And shameful prodigals alike -
Scrub congregants fresh with tears of baptism –
A promise from the searching for the Living Christ
Like a lighthouse that calls out “home, home”
Out into bottomless black fog that is the night.
This is a contract of hope written
By the contact of family;
By the beat and the rhyme
Of the poem that is a church.
Recite a prayer: it is incense
Rising like returning souls -
It is a whisper that longs for the union
That lies deep in the mud of everyone.
Let us fast hold tight each other’s hand
That we may each account for one another:
Hold what is sacramental near as words -
Comprised of saliva and breath, of mind and soul.
This world sparkles so when viewed
Through her stained glass of hope, so blue
Or the mystic fire, the red of blood, the sacred and true

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