Tempo Poco a Poco

Each day, hour twenty-four gives one a rough time,
Piercing the illusion that there is enough time.

Sand in a voluptuous glass scours our hearts.
What hard, violent, rushing, unfeeling stuff, time!

Manage it. Curse it. Dance about it. Divide it.
The truth yet remains: you can never rebuff time.

For a moment, it hovers. For a year, it flees.
Tempus fugit, tempus cessat. None can slough time.

At the end of our days, full of sorrow and praise,
That silent watchman stands atop the great bluff: Time.

Thrones and Dominions

The sands of time drift and drive, sift and shrive, covering multitudes.

He is the image of the invisible God.

The winds of change pummel and trounce, grumble and grouse, untying bonds.

He is the image of the invisible God.

In the temples, madmen shout, “Wither is God ?” in the gladdest moods.

Everlasting to everlasting, you are God.

From within each sepulchral apse, the unforced reticence responds.

Everlasting to everlasting, you are God.

“Give us first our freedom, our comfort, and from there we will march forth.”

For in Him dwelleth complete the fullness God.

“Any banner you offer, we will gladly unfurl, but leave us…”

For in Him dwelleth complete the fullness God.

“… the space to be who we are called to be, so we may point the world to north.”

He maketh peace by the blood of His cross. My God!

“Far be it from us to take sides.” To earth and heaven treasonous!

He maketh peace by the blood of His cross. My God!

Cultural Appropriation

“Write what you know,” wisdom conventional,
Threatens to morph into ironclad law.
Fearing aggressions unintentional;
The best lack all conviction in its claw.
Sympathy is nice; empathy divine,
But you’d better think twice (or more), you cad,
If you think your words can ever touch mine;
If you, you WASP, you geezer robed in plaid,
Dare deign to make artist’s gestures this way!
What you know (not much!), keep it over there,
While I sit here and type, to my dismay
Using all your best English words with care.
Forsooth! Never could I more clearly see
That your culture appropriated me.

King of Zion*

I was a traveller in an ancient land
Who saw two vast and tow’ring walls of stone
Rise from the river. Unpropped, they stand
Halfway to heaven, by sunset’s light shown
Redder even than each iron-laced band,
Telling of a sculptor from whose great head
Flow designs magnificent; o’er all things
Must He reign. Of Him was it truly said:
“Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty,
God hath shined.” Back to His vast throne-room rings
The praise of all, rendered not from duty.
“The heavens shall declare his righteousness,”
Cry these hills, shouting beyond dispute. He,
O His people, whose wonders we confess.

*Brought to you by Psalm 50, with assistance pilfered from P.B. Shelly.