"Let's take our country back,"

"Bar all Muslims,"

"Put prayer in schools,"

"Protect our guns"...

Why not rather be wronged?

You worship a Crucified Man.

Why not rather be grieved?

You follow the Man of Sorrows.

You wear your indignation 

like a Pharisee's phylactery.

You protest to your shame,

you who've forsaken love.

Sown among thorns,

you neglect That which is weightiest

to consume and read your rights

while the helpless lay underfoot.

Take heed -

The cries of the oppressed

are not far from the Almighty.

Moans of hunger - 

groans of blood -

have reached our Father's ears - 

while you've sat in your self-interest

and counted your own tears.

Ah!

I felt something then!

Hardship and joy,

the mundane and delightful-

all in one frame.

What was it about life?

Youth or Beauty?

Faith or Pain?

Knowing what I know now,

I knew nothing then

I longed for what I lacked

though rich with minutes, energy and wonder.

What happened to wonder as I aged?

God spoke to me through every pore 

on the face of my days.

Looking back, 

I saw so little.

I guess that's why I need photos-

to value 

what once was 

through older eyes.

A Chasm between Lovers

is one of disappointment and fury 

The fruit of dull days 

and missed connections - 

Of great sins 

and frustrations.

One wonders for a time 

how to reach across

and heal the breach...

Some nights I'm struck with unnamed longing.

Something familiar.

Cutting.

Old.

Beyond reach of thought or memories,

an indelible impression upon my heart.

I respond.

Hands outstretched to the One as they slice vegetables-

grasping His as I walk to the store.

He is always with me, and yet-

I traverse this life unaware.

The shock of awesome weightiness amidst miles of blank stares.

Insatiable- 

the myopic grasping 

of fingers and heart

around mounds and morsels 

of futility- 

around promises of love.