Here’s another note-taking poem, this based on a sermon from All Saint’s Day.
Sometimes I Cannot Always Be There
If only I had the knowledge
or experience or energy,
I would see the glory of my son
in white robes and black stole
open his mouth in a wide O,
the sound of his voice blending
with other children’s voices all
filling this place with expectation:
A man can rise from the dead.
A virgin can conceive a son.
The worst thing in life is not
death, but life without belief
that life can be better.
After tricks or treats comes All Saints.
After the candy comes communion.
After the costumes come new robes
all the same for all of them who sing.
NOTE: Lots of cool things continue to go on at HighCallingBlogs.com as that community builds its energy and momentum. We’re hoping to receive approval from our sponsoring organization to open the network again on January 1, 2010. In the meantime, I don’t have much energy for GoodWordEditing.com except to toss up some of the poems I write. (Especially considering how much of my personal energies are currently diverted to helping my agent sell my zombie book.)
I don’t know, L.L., if this poem qualifies for the prompt Sam listed at the bottom of his faith and culture article at HighCallingBlogs.com last week. It is a love poem of sorts, but not following the rules you laid out.
{ 14 comments }
you are wonderful,
and your poem is too.
Thanks, nAncY. As are you and your arts. I need to order some of your art,
by the way…
I'm wondering what “you” from the poem see instead . . . since it sounds as if you do not have the knowledge or experience or energy. A thought-provoking poem, Marcus. Good to “see” you . . . I'm trying to re-emerge from a too-long hiatus!
taking whatever you offer,
and congrats on all things exciting !
that was from me, deb @ talk at the table above, comment glitch
Good question, charity. And GREAT to hear from you again.
I'd say we rarely see the glory in other people. I get so used to the wonders of the world that they start to seem mundane pretty quickly. A good cup of coffee is just something I expect. A little boy (and my little girl, too!) singing in the choir on Sunday is easy to take for granted. I can miss the glory of who they are and who God is in them.
We are made in God's image. We are made for better things. We are made to work in the world and tend the garden of the world. If we can't recognize the excellence that is all around us already, how can we ever dream of adding more excellence to the world? If we can't recognize glory where it already exists, how can we ever hope to live in a way that glorifies God?
Do you ever share your sermon “notes” with the preacher?
Sometimes. It depends on the preacher/pastor. I shared this one with the
preacher and the children's minister. Usually, folks just don't know what
to do with a poem that was written for them. But I figure their puzzlement
shouldn't stop me from writing them. Sometimes, it stops me from sharing. I
don't want these to be about me.
I hear you. I could see how I'd want them to be about me.
Don't get me wrong. I struggle with that all the time, Sam. My ego is bigger
than the state of Texas.
Oh yeah? Well my ego is bigger than Texas plus one whole other state.
I really like how you linked Halloween with All Saints at the end of the poem (seeing as how they occur on subsequent days). I've had a bad day, but those few lines made me smile.
Megan, I'm sorry you're having a bad day! Glad I could help out in some
small way.
I like the part where you say you are doing this to give back but I would assume by all the comments that this is working for you as well.
regards
paul random
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