Charades

crooked.jpg

 

You wear the bark,

but the charade

bites, xylem and

phloem corked with

pseudo-sap. Leaves

wilt, dejected

heralds marking

your soul wormwood,

galled by blighted

moral compass, limbs

sold to do evil

where, rooted to

inferior soil,

your destruction

is imminent.

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Her Eyes

gaping window

 

Her smile lifts her lips in all

the expected places, her

laughter chimes harmony at

appropriate pauses. But

her eyes – her eyes are empty

windows, unshuttered channels

to the brokenness within,

where the lights are never on,

and no one is ever home.

 

 

 

 

Get Real

litpeony.jpg

She wants to get real.

Her thirst is a mirror,

reflecting a parched soul

to blind eyes; the more she

confesses, the more she

recognizes her hollowness.

Only Light can fill her now –

energy in rainbow-rays,

illumination to reveal

depravity. And seeing,

she knows that

she has been a dark

and empty thing,

a plastic flower

with no hope of fragrance.

So now,

at last,

she wants to get real.

I Am Job

potentillabranch

I am Job,

the One of Multiplied Loss.

Family,

friends,

employment,

possessions,

reputation,

health,

value,

self –

all are added on Affliction’s Abacus.

Feeble fingers

let them slip,

great blood-drops

to a parched and greedy earth.

Having nothing more to hold,

I lift hands to heaven,

free to worship He who

gives and takes away,

Empty,

yet

so very

Full;

for who can I hold but You?

Who have I ever been

but Yours?

Ashes to ashes,

dust to dust,

naked I came,

and naked I am cursed to remain;

but it is here,

in the naked places,

that I choose Your raiment.

It is here, in the place of emptiness,

that I choose Your food.

I am Job ,

the One of Multiplied Gain…