A Poem: Maranatha

It’s been a long time since I’ve attempted writing poetry. And I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know a thing about what makes for truly good poetry. But I recently picked up Word on Fire’s latest journal on poetry, and curiosity in this art form reawakened. I took my children on a walk through the countryside to enjoy one of the last warm days of autumn, and then I came home and wrote this. Make of it what you will.

remember
these long-suffering fields
air the Christ tasted
take life into
my chest
remember
grain laid down
awakens
more alive
life renewed in
pigeons—
darts of blue and white—
searching gold furrows
for grace
to carry them
as this light
carries me
remember
a colorless land
is not dead
but waiting
dreaming of pollen
as I dream
these swells of earth
held in the
mind of God
His Word endures
remember
only breathe
listen to currents
moving over the immovable
watch cattail cotton
dispersing
not lost
yes, I am fragmented
not lost

Posted in Blog.

3 Comments

  1. Awesome! Powerful! Reaches deeply into my soul and my own childhood years I spent on my Grandfather’s mountainous country lands close enough to see the hills of Rome. O how I remember and the voiceless lessons!

  2. A beautiful meditation and a handsome little boy, who is blessed to have you as his mother. We too are waiting for God to intervene! Maranatha! Save the little ones!

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