Bride

There is a bride
Who’s paralyzed.

Her under-developed body
Is cold, weak, shoddy
From lack of Spirit’s animation

Her imbecile consciousness
Is slowed by dimming influence
From lack of Spirit’s illumination

Her frame too frail
To through travail
Give birth to Spirit’s progeny

Her heart cringing fear
She curls up to look “in here.”
Closed up to the Spirit’s guidance

Clothed in dirt
Worms her dessert
Mixing sin with Spirit’s holiness

Precious daughter
Where’s her father?
Where’s a lover to romance?
Where’s a coach, trainer, or brother?
Where’s the Savior?

Here comes a minstrel
His song is sweet,
Her ears receive
Her mind perceives
Her heart conceives
Her body breathes.

Then comes a play mate
His games are fun
Her feet can run
Her eyes see sun
Her heart has won
Her chains undone

Then comes a father
His name is hers
His words she heeds
His strength she needs
Her mind he feeds
Her heart he kneads.

Then comes a lover
He gives up Himself.
Her face beams
Her eye gleams
She races streams
Her heart sings.

Then the Spirit and the Bride say:
“Come!”

Playground

There once was boy called Martin. Martin was a precocious lad, who loved to play on playgrounds. Whenever he didn’t have a playground, he made one. Just give him a tree, or some furniture, even a pile of junk, and he would transform it into a place of enjoyment and discovery!

One year, Martin started attending a new school with kids his age. But this school had no playground equipment except a sandbox, which kids of all ages would go and play in during recess. Martin had played on swings, jungle gyms, hanging bars, slides, bounce houses, and sandboxes too. He saw the kids playing in the sandbox and all he could think was, “If only I could give them a chance to play on some of the equipment I get to play on. They’d love it! They’d have so much fun and grow bigger and stronger like I’m growing.” So Martin asked his parents, and they agreed to rent some new playground equipment for a day.

The next day, three new pieces of playground equipment showed up in the school yard. Martin was so excited. He couldn’t wait to see how his friends would react. At recess, he gathered around all his friends, and explain the rules and how to play on the swings, and how to swing from the monkey bars, and how to slide on the slides, and bounce on the bounce houses. And Martin was jumping right into the fun while he was demonstrating.

But when he turned around, he noticed that nobody was playing with him. The just stared at him. They weren’t used to such big equipment. Martin was hoping they would try it out and discover the fun for themselves, like he had. Some of them tried some of the gravel pieces around the base. Some even climbed around and tried the slide once or twice. But they all stood and watched.

Martin stared at them with open mouth. Why weren’t they playing? Didn’t they know this equipment was so much more fun than the sandbox? He even dragged some kids over and pushed them on the swings, but they were missing their friends and they ran back to the sandbox.

Our little precocious lad was disheartened. He didn’t want to play all by himself. He knew that this was A LOT more fun than the sandbox, but it was no fun without other kids to play with. He went home and cried to his parents. They understood, being wise parents, and told him that he should find a way to have fun in the sandbox with the other kids.

So, the next day at recess, Martin joined the kids playing in the sandbox, except this time, he brought a bucket of water with him. He smiled as he was determined to still create something even more fun out of this sandbox. Spilling some of the water on the ground, he made mud and started forming things out of the mud. The other kids watched and then started to play with him. Each one got down on their hands and knees and started making little houses, and bridges, tunnels, and streets. Everybody had an amazing time. And from then on, Martin was happy to play with his friends in the sandbox, still hoping that some day, the other kids would want more than the sandbox, and upgrade next year to just one piece of equipment. Maybe a ball-pit!

Politics Play

I feel like I should apologize for this. But history as my witness . . . I will not lest one can show me I am wrong.

The Generation rises to take their stand
Upon the political world stage
To fight for justice and freedom’s brand
That has inked the Declaration’s page.

The stage is set with prop and dot
Where powers quoth their scripted lines
And decisions break like winds of plot
Entangling their opponents in jungle vines.

How proud the idealist takes the floor
His eyes glazed by the light above.
He cannot see the long-locked door
Where no one cares to see or move.

The plays play on, the powers clutch.
The bills are passed, the upstarts fail.
But mighty arms of play power touch
Not the women who weep and men who wail.

Outside the theatre people starve.
The rich feast preying on the undeserving.
The French Revolutionaries carve.
A guillotine for the nerve-less head’s un-nerving.

So men will cast their ballots down
Like tickets to a show they’ll never see.
May God have mercy on the clown
Who thinks the world thus better will be.

The theatre will close. The powers scatter.
The people will seek out the purpose of living.
Then they will remember the soft pitter-patter.
Of the child they lost in their taking and giving.