Submissions by Bonanza1

For Christmas this year my father gave me a collection of sentimental tems I hadn't seen in years. They were in a box with a photo of my Grandpa Pete and my Dad on the back porch of the house I grew up in on the front of it. The box included family photos, a framed serenity prayer with pressed flowers behind its glass, my beloved Grandmas rhinestone jewelry, and the bible I used on the rare occasions we went to church. I was completely overwhelmed by what the box contained, and that my Father was the one to present it to me completely broke me. I have the small leather bible in front of me...

Although there would probably be a distinct and hovering mindset like a cloud or perhaps low clinging fog
Washing the uprise of steel and cinder block in heavy grey

The bright occasions of new green
(the trees and their ruthless hunger for the day)
coupling with the busk
(his enduring chorus)

Would allow for the narrow in
(a small opening of heart)
Enough to hear the truth and the love
from which it sounds

Enough to hear the beaconing of God
And engage with beatitude
The voice of Christ Jesus

I'll tell you about a mercy ridden morning with both gladness and sadness in my eyes
With both rejoicing and downward smile harbouring my chest

In all of it I was blessed

Because I know the moment now, is shown no farther forward than then
When mapped apon the infinite
The fingerprint of God
My blessings tomorrow already on that hand

That I might rise and know him more
Or die and see his face

For I am a sinner saved by Grace

And now indications
Nods of approval and urges to reach further and grasp...

I had hung my head

I had forgotten the feel of long pine board as it met my shin
.. and my mouth the wet feel of confession
My God
The whisper of it had drawn from bow
.. to silence
My back had arched from nearer to thee

And then a brutal morning led to a garden
.. My Mother
Her sweet care caressed a cry for help
My God
His hand upon my wounds absorbed by his

I returned to his feet