Shipwrecked

sandy treasures

It wasn’t until her fingers ached with the holding

that she stumbled upon what her heart most craved.

Recasting flotsam into jetsam proved complex –

each snippet and stub, accumulation of a misspent life,

ingrown toenails like colonized barnacles on a heartless hull.

Which to discard?

Where to lay it down?

Her broken treasures had put down diseased roots,

fusing flesh to failure, marrying captain to ship.

Scraping at the splinters, mutiny of the highest order,

was pain more exquisite than the requisite lashes.

But unimaginable riches winked on the sand

and sang Siren notes pure and sweet,

daring surrender, demanding an answer.

Her cries of agony crashed like breakers

as her keel cracked wide;

sea air seared skin freshly exposed to the elements

while baubles trickled to the sand,

frothing like the surf.

Layer upon layer,

all, all became Crusoe to her perfect storm,

her tears lost at sea

with the pounding of her chest

as freedom stirred chains.

At last,

trembling,

spent,

she knelt on bloodied knees

before the pearl of great price

with all she had left –

empty hands.

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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…

Long Was I a Prisoner

Long was I a prisoner in rock and plaster cage;

Long had I been locked from sun and kept from pleasure’s page.

You peered in past walls I built, your pick and axe were true;

Your hammering with tools of trade effectively broke through.

And oh! the pain as on my heart you etched your loving hymn;

The light blazed in and blinded me, whose eyes had grown so dim.

As pen scraped glass, my soul bled blood, and in the bleeding, healed;

When clouded panes grew brighter still, my sentence was repealed!

My prison walls have been transformed into an abbey bright;

Your light shines through transparent soul, a window full of light.

And now the light can shine both ways, a barrier no more;

As you light me, I light my world, and in the lighting, soar!