there is a Spirit blowing
open your sails to word alive
logos became flesh
is still becoming anew
healing and revealing
Holy
yet
there are waters stirring
unblown by Spirit
yet churning as whirlpool
drawing all in closer
taking all things down
a power thirsty to be seen
there are “prophets” profiting
unfit for chartering
in these uncharted waters
they are not fishing
they are shills for
a hungry sea
how to know
if our boat moves
at the beckoning winds
of Spirit
or the inviting undertow
of waters below?
how is it with your sail?
no required title proclaiming flotation or activation.
no (en)gendered guarantee upon the waves.
no well-crafted defense invulnerable
which barely breaks the surface.
look up
from the waters
toward a fruit-filled boat
for the wind (Whom) fills sails
nurtures a particular harvest
in abundance
and there are many
men (and women)
overboard
Tag: Christianity
Ireland: Day 10
Escaping early morning
While the fam enjoyed their slumber
We sought historic sanctuary
With only two in number
First it was at Christ Church
Where Vikings Christ adored
Now Strongbow here lies peacefully
As a proper English Lord
The crypt containing treasures
And mummified remains
(And also gift shop tchotchkes,
to the echoes of prayer refrains.)
Next, to old Whitefriar
We met Saint Valentine
Asking Jesus to bless our Love
With His own Love divine
For lunch, the house of Gallagher
For boxty, many ways
As Temple Bar was waking
From the drink of yesterdays
Then back to join as family
Where modern shops abound
To celebrate together
At all the deals we’d found
We smiled at Flying Tiger
And what else was euro trending
Then tasted Butler’s chocolate
Before our day was ending
(Here seems a good reminder
As each day to next flowed
Every time we drove somewhere
From wrong side of the road.)
Ireland: Day 2
Our first day, contented to wander
Discovering where we had come
Our bodies still moored to a city
6 hours behind, by the sun
We soaked up the beauty of family
We saw the hung nets by the sea
Awakened by salt water breezes
We knew this was where we should be
We gazed on their rich filleted plunder
We petted their lobster with smile
We laughed, though our eyes betrayed us
More tired with each traveled mile
We slept, oh the wonderful mercy
Of place to lay down in exhaust
The sweet relief of bidding evening
Was worth any payment or cost
We dreamed of potentials and maybes
While birds of the coast flew nearby
They entered our dreams uninvited
As through windows we heard their cry
words from wick 