That Boy Standing There

Standing there he gets covered in dust.
Snotty nosed and skeletal, he doesn’t care,
His little arms wear themselves out with joy;
It is just a car.

The sun sets blood-red through the dust
Silhouetting talonned thorn trees;
He walks barefoot but doesn’t notice
I am falling in love with Africa again.
He smiles.

A bowl of rice and prayer for beans,
The pathetic dogs linger just out of reach
Hoping some child is sloppy, unfortunate
But here, they never are, never have been,
The bowl is empty.

His mat is made of grass, the floor mud;
Somehow he sleeps, soundly, soundlessly
Through the memories and chaos of dieing.
Somehow the dead don’t speak from this ground
It just swallows everything and anything forever.
I can’t sleep.

Matthew Five

You have heard it said
Men will walk about blind,
Hating brother and blood
Trumpeting righteousness to the skies,
Sure of their religion.

You have heard it said,
And seen it too,
Clothed in Sunday’s best sermon
Echoing through the golden pews
And into the chambers of power.

You have heard it said
And the faithful prove it true;
Naked and weary,
Cheeks purple and bruised,
Sowing justice and mercy
With bleary eyes.

Autumn Rain (2005)

The beaded silver lights
The dreary, weary world
And in my heart alights
With splashing dashing furl.

Outside the window, pain
The emphatic ripple moves;
Life in pouring rain
And love from self behooves.

Awash in hallow creed,
A reeking sufficiency
To strip away my need
By grace’s great efficiency.