lake monroe, indiana

stirred from my own

restless slumber

the blood-tinged moon

of late summer

surprised me

did she wake me to

wonder at her taciturn presence

simmering on the sky

while arousing a reflection

that has set this lake afire

after it had seemed

so peaceful

so still before

how will i ever sleep

with you glowering at me

knowing you are slowly

stoking our passions and

enflaming our dreams

that nip at the edges

of our souls

when we wake

justice is social

"All I'm saying is simply this, that all life is interrelated, that somehow we're caught in an inescapable network of mutuality tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason, I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. You can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality."

- Martin Luther King, jr.

i am all edges

i am all edges
the weight of which
causes the scaffolding to creak

bearing against the aging mosaic

of my cumbersome history

a restoration in progress

yet the drudgery of fickle old thoughts

come to pay their respects

call for my hospitality

a diversion of discovery

unforeseen grace in frittering away my time

with the elderly who smell of old spice

while we litter the immediate landscape

with pistachio shells

the castaway, half-finished sentences

scattered for others

to obliviously trample the obscure wisdom underfoot

i feel like a bird of prey

circling the spire of an old church

searching for sustenance to be found

in the stillness below

i have ceased spending life

seeking to keep

waves upon the seashore

instead i embrace and let go

each and every one

in a fleeting sacrament

the tantalizing movement of present moments

linking arms in order to

escort me into a

hope-tainted lamentation

as the surprising persuasion

of an inspiring and deeply rooted

ancient oak

gnarled with a lived sagacity

lets loose a wizened owl

who soars boldly by

leaving the depths of her hermitage

to seek sustenance

in the dusky tones

of long-shadow sun

the silhouettes make me regard

the luminous mystery

at the edge of everything

a feast for the diligent

a torrent of rain

sends the landscape workers

scurrying for shelter

yet i notice

their shy and patient replacements

robin red-breast and the elegant lady cardinal

take-up where their predecessors left off

eyeing up what the others have missed altogether

a feast for the diligent

and succor for their young

by suffering with us

The God whose divinity Jesus revealed through his self-giving always helps first of all by suffering with us.

- Jürgen Moltmann

oak of righteousness

prickly roots dug deep hug the fertile earth…

as i am stretched,

swaying in a gale force wind…

…a tempest rushing

with rock and sand and grit

scattering across the valley…the valley

the valley of decision…

the wind whispers: whom do you trust?

now, serene and tranquil

(after it passes)

perchance out of breath,

yet holding on, digging deeper

…ever deeper…touching the well-spring…my source

hence never concerned

with the heaviness of heat,

with the scorching drought,

with the storms of life

bearing my fruit as ages pass by…

wind rushes

Your Voice calls to me

wind rushing through green pine trees

deep timbre summons

a common search for life

When we become aware that we do not have to escape our pains, but that we can mobilize them into a common search for life, those very pains are transformed from expressions of despair into signs of hope.

- Henri Nouwen

Reggie McNeal Unleashed

Reggie McNeal Main Session Unleashed Conference 2010 from Unleashed Network on Vimeo.

borne by beauty

phlox heavy with dew

splendor’s weighty sustenance

life borne by beauty

life

pale light glistens

off the silky stalks

of the softly swaying rushes

who nod in agreement

as they rustle amongst themselves

wondering at my lengthy pause

an intermission i have given myself over to

as my now oblique thoughts

drift slowly into the background

tumbling amidst the rushes

and i - in my interruption

get the barest glimpse

of Life smiling at me

through a distant horizon

now masked by the stars

who come to attention one-by-one

in the wake of my prayerful vision

The Way of the Wound

“I’ve often said that if I had a way of naming Christianity, I would name it the way of the wound. We’re the only religion that worships a naked wounded man, a strange god image. I think what Jesus is telling the Christian tribe is that the wound is the way into the soul, into transformation. The act of suffering breaks down the imperial ego so we can ask deeper questions, broader questions, real questions. I would assume that no man can become a True King without having endured or triumphed over some major wounds.”

- Richard Rohr

soothe dark slumber

ah, soft fragrance of jasmine

spice throughout the night

ready to soothe dark slumber

praying mantis

with the august heat

spread out over the afternoon

like a damp wool blanket

i happened upon

the priest-seer

of the insect world

a mantis

poised in intercession

i asked him

what do you pray for?

o noble cleric,

what do your pleas

take shape as…?

then he snapped his

wings and fluttered

off into the sky

so much like

many of my own

little prayers