CHRIST / Christmas Songs
b l e s s i n g s
Father, my dear,
hear
blessings in a song
while we call your name
beckoning you near
here
keep us in your arms
blessings ………. no. 1
rest in my arms ………. no. 2
brother ………. no. 3
Tag: POETRY
tumultuary
designed direction
summer hills now overgrown with introspection
defeating my heart
i hear birds of May sing whispers of the season
while she’s cold at night from winters wind of freezin’
these days behind
photo by Andrew Dalrymple pomeriggio sulle colline
ATTA SOL i
what of nature then?
if life borne of death let mystery end
needles surround me and i am undone and yet called to begin
what life have i yet to receive?
GIF from the film Solaris by Andrei Tarkovsky
MA FLORA i
truth finds me now,
as a thread,
unthreading seams i’d sewn
the needle is a pine
and if i am nature
and nature within me
i’d pray as i unravel
that truth console my need
GIF from the film Solaris by Andrei Tarkovsky
writing ‘blood of love’
often i’ll write about my relationship with God in a way that might be uncomfortable for some. notably, all of my writing about God is in the form of a conversation. i think God values absolute honesty in communication, even if it is at times heretical. i feel when i am able to speak with God like this i am able to strengthen my relationship with him in a way that is honoring to Him. because i do love Him.
this is written as a set of four mirroring a backwards walk through the stages of grief. traditionally there are five stages to grief, the last stage being acceptance. this poem omits acceptance as i feel acceptance is unwritable. acceptance, to me, is a continuous process and since it involves so much change and continuous contemplation, the feeling itself can’t be isolated into a poem.
i wrote beginning with the last stages of grief so as to show the exchange of losing confidence in myself and losing my confidence in God. so here are the four poems and an extrapolation of my times wrestling with grief.
Flōra / Hark!, –
depression
i wrestle with identity and the burdensome weight of being called God’s child amidst my own short comings
-, Bona Dea / Rejoice! Rejoice!
bargaining
although it feels like a fruitless exercise, i call out to God in a way that feels in-line with the Christianity i grew up with
Ichor to Ferry Love, –
anger
the distance in communication with Christ offers little comfort amidst grief and the frequent reminder of ‘a plan’ feels dilapidated and tasteless
-, Tjú
denial
i know who i am and i know who God is but i feel we are asymptotes due to my own stubborn nature
inasmuch i am speechless
in each beginning
gravity invites
to dwell amongst the sand and stars
to become like one another
and pull at each of the opposites
it was Abram, directed and removed
at a wall in a desert
where history had yet been proved
to have been more than a line
and like gravity,
Abram now Abraham
forsaken to climb
once again a beginning
Photos by John R. Pepper Inhabited Deserts
decidedly yours
true, unsaid little virtues
what common things i’ve yet to grasp
mysteries, survive me
what lies below a lake
do you gasp
from fathom of discovery
while lungs fill with water,
best do my breathing
where the air is decidedly yours
photo by Andrew Dalrymple OCEANOGRAPHY_02
importance over penance under forgiveness over ignorance under importance
faith without reason is a miserable choice
and the breath of a deity is a need to rejoice
but why are you so sullen now?
there’s a God who forgives
our need to feel confident
is what vanity is
Christians,
Christians,
what blessing hath he left us though?
the dealings of our lives are aptly called an ebb and flow
archaic things that give us faith
just look at love it gives us grace
but, god, oh god, you love defending sacrilege
while culture becomes foreign becomes sinful makes you lack courage
god, you’re so defensive you’re so tender
where honor dies you cast yourself
but you are not a martyr
you’re no savior
just let Him be Himself
pride, immortal poison,
and we drink it
to refrain from doubt
or has He told us death is dead and therefor we should live without
Print by Naoya Hatakeyama LIMEWORKS
blacksnow in Spring
when beetles wake from days of winter caving
and the needles on those pines are all but changing
it’s long undone
honey, it’s me you saw bleeding with the river
the snow that melts and reels me into shivers
i’m redefined
