Lord, Sometimes I...

Lord, sometimes reckless, I push you aside

And replace You with my own foolish pride

And sometimes I choose hopeless fear and doubt

Though all around the earth Your wonder shouts

Lord, sometimes I am glib and wide-eye blind

With wordy exposition dull of mind

And sometimes I’m forgetful of Your ways

While all around me nature sings your praise

Lord, pitiful and full-amazed I gasp

And strain to picture hell’s keys in your clasp

Yet stooping you would wash a servant’s feet

…the train of your robe pouring to the street

Lord, sometime I try to envision You

Reaching to me with hands that nails pierced through

My thought and eyes glimpse shadows of Your frame

While all around creation shouts Your name

© Janet Martin

This morning's worship service was filled with people sharing a favorite verse or two about Jesus; over and over, as precious words of praise and promise were read, I realized that I was trying to visualize Him but grasped at vague imaginations of Perfection! Someday, we face to face will see, He who fills each day with grace and wonder.

...as day dipped to dusk the train of his glory filled the sky!!

...for Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever and ever, 

Amen. Matt 6:13

Once a Miracle...

Armed with what we have come to know

And greater ignorance

Darling, we hold close then let go

Learning love’s sweet, slow-dance

Dare we to wield scalpel of pen

And dare we let it spell

From private wound of heart-blood yen

Those words we cannot tell?

Will Want the ache of longing break

Through begging bars of skin

Hungry enough to undertake

More than dances within?

Darling, this clasping, rasping flight

Vexes our here-to-there

While time’s voracious appetite

Spills triumph and despair

Even December lips are soft

With promises of new

Where the old year spirals aloft

Before bidding adieu

Forgetfulness and ignorance

Are brave within a pen

Thus, darling we will take the chance

And dare to dance again…

Close your eyes love, sight distracts us

Words are wonderful

Whispered in the touch of what was

Once a miracle

© Janet Martin

Ah, those bittersweet slow-dances

Of looking back to gaze upon

Life’s ‘once upon a miracle’s

That I should have lived to love and be loved at all

...is a miracle!

Of Faded Fronds

How faded is thy garment, love

Thy brow is white as snow

And tattered is that virgin glove

We donned a year ago

How paper-thin is thy embrace

We weighted with our fears

How weary is thy patient face

Scarred with kisses and tears

How lovely and how terrible

The life-stains that we pressed

Without thought, unalterable

Against thy patient breast

And where we, giddy with new dreams

Hailed thy arrival, dear

Soon we fell prey to ancient schemes

And mistreated you, Year

What once was raw and real and keen

With best intention crowned

Are faded fronds of what-has-been

Like shadows on the ground

Now, near the threshold where farewell

And greeting coalesce

Ah, we are love-torn by a swell

Of joy-grief tenderness

Yet still, the Gate of parting looms

At midnight’s sev’ring gong

The New Year waiting with its blooms

Compels us to be strong

© Janet Martin

December's Rain

...well, so much for the plan to dry laundry out-doors...

December’s rain is a refrain

Unlike those splashes in July

It weeps from heaven’s lowered deeps

A morbid, midday lullaby

And pelts the window-pane with tears

Hard-wrung from frozen yester-years

Where every summer disappears

To gardens in thought’s eye

December’s rain evokes a strain

Of echoing farewells and dreams

It breaks the sky where heaven-sighs

Are too heavy for vapor-seams

And spills in autumn-postlude where

No leaf flounders upon its stair

Of pewter-gilded, groaning air

And moody-brooding streams

December’s rain is a freight train

That rushes through stiff-fingered trees

Its cargo spills to streets and hills

In cold, unfeeling melodies

As brave feet dash with common goal

Where fires warm both hands and soul

While December rain shiver-rolls

Across a world of seas

© Janet Martin

The Joy-bells of the Heart

I was mourning the passing of a season of song-favorites when it struck me; the joy of the Lord is not a season...Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy. Ps. 47:1

The joy-bells of the heart

Need no season to ring

The Message of God’s love imparts

Hope’s ageless offering

While winnowing of air

Sweeps seasons to Past’s deep

God’s kind and tender loving care

Will never wane or sleep

...but peals from age to age

From hour unto hour

Where time’s incessant turning page

Can never dim its pow’r

But like an angel-choir

Filling the atmosphere

God’s mercy-message guides desire

And quells dark doubt and fear

The joy bells of the heart

In humble gladness ring

As melodies of hope impart

Worship to Christ the King

© Janet Martin

Aren't you glad the joy of Christmas is not simply a season?!