Between Heaven and Stone

Abba, there’s a rush of Heaven-water out my window.

Sounds of earth and stones gulping, swallowing and gasping,

For more of Heaven’s gift.

Cool and pelting, still soft and warm

Against skin and mud and leaves.


Autumn burnt and crispy till,

Heaven wishes them soggy and limp.

The boldest ones still hang on branches

drip, drip, drip.

Almost xylophone, the pavement pings

a different tone

Than petal, blade or stone.

Night refuses to rest her head,

Keeps one lid drooping over dawn.

Against a Wall in the Dark

Wordless, speachless, soul-less I came.

Silent screaming only your name.

My anguish compounded by confusion.

I don’t know your words and can’t see your direction.

The only thing I feel is your presence.

My little frame of earth is still.

So my prayers stop moving from trembling lips.

Only tears follow gravity, like blood down Calvary’s hill.

Yesterday, I told a friend, that refinement, relationship requires pain.

The foundation of all the hope I have was laid with blood and agony of soul.

But God, I no longer “feel” saved and whole.

You left me here, alone it seems with only pages that fuel dreams.

Dreams of eternity, happy marriages, companionship, purpose and praise.


Has not enough pain sullied wounded hearts?

That their seams bulge toward threadbare death?

When death and lies and faithlessness assail all that once was “good”?

What do I know of good?

LIke a child in the dark, I’m groping backward.

All seems encroaching night, constricting to swallow me.

Eyes peeled open in panic.

Bricks mortared higher than I can climb.

A barrier that spins me to look the advancing cruelty in the eye.

God, Must I? Let Me Out! Let Me Go! Let Me Away.

Lean.  I think you said. Lean and slip limply to recline.

Recline against this Wall, this Rock until the storm passes by.

This, I your wall, will stay the tightening night.

I cannot fold, will not collapse.

This night will not crush you.