January 13, 2009

Joshua 6-10

Disquiet in the mortar,
shofar shakes limitless brick,
the calm of the City of Palms.

The calm of the nation of priests,
spiders in the desert sands,
spread thin and blown hard by
faithful winds of reverence.

Eventually the pride in mudbrick
will falter, and violence will fall
on the heads of all without a rouge rope.
What political savvy and dreadful
practicality, as the death cries

of children ring in my ears. Sinful
mothers without thought of the Only
watch one-year olds mumbling "bye-bye"
tossed aside for the purity

of these, the Lord's priests.
In this brutal march, i do not speak of
metaphor, but demand to see mercy.

January 6, 2009

Joshua 4 & James 2

Dusty aisles part discarded heaps,
canned green beans and boxed Hormel
chili; we twelve cross the stairwell
and formulate efficient means, the tide keeps

piling up behind our pacing backs.
Elementary boys busy themselves eagerly
paring rust circles, so recklessly
desiring to paint the water from the cracks.

Tell them to pick the paint cans
from the floor of this Jordan, construct and stack.
Splashed gray from the pouring; simple tabernacle
shrine for our simple remembrance.

Carry with me dank and dusky memories:
basements where our hands joined divine,
cleared the freezers, reordered by wine
and bread, where faith stands dead without activity.