Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Walk on the Journey

Inspired by my daughter and husband starting their walk on the Camino de Santiago

————–

Walk on the journey,
Don’t be afraid.
Take Jesus with you;
Yes, with you He’ll stay.

Take living water
And bread for your soul.
Let Him now feed you
And you’ll be made whole.

Life is a journey,
The road up and down.
Stay on His path now
And you’ll win a crown.

Don’t expect roses,
Or ease all the time.
Some things will happen
That cause you to frown.

But if you keep going,
In faith bear things out,
You’ll come to the finish —
“Halleluia”, you’ll shout.

Don’t give up — one more step now;
You’re nearly there.
Keep on His path now;
His joy you will share.

On the Wrong Side

(Reflections on D-Day and other conflicts)

What happens when
You’re on the wrong side,
Through no fault of your own? —
You didn’t ask to be born.

What happens when
You’re one black among whites
Or one white among blacks?

What happens when
Your skin’s another color,
Your religion is different,
Or you’re the former enemy?

Peace has been declared,
But it takes take time
For hatred not to flare.

I’m on the wrong side sometimes,
But I have to live.
Please give me a chance.

Don’t judge me by labels
And prejudiced fables.
Though some may be true,
I’m a person too.

And I, too, must learn
To open my heart,
To make a new start.

To open my mind,
To learn to be kind,
Though we might disagree —
We need to be free.

To see you as special
Would really be helpful.
To see your great worth —
It really can’t hurt.

To learn to forgive,
That’s how we must live.

(June 6, 2014 – 70th anniversary of D-Day, World War II)

The enemy

The enemy will tell you lies;
Don’t be surprised.
Says you’re no good —
You ought, you should
Give up and never try again.

He worms and wiggles,
He really squiggles
Into your mind —
He gets inside.

Will twist and turn,
Pervert and squirm,
Ooze into you,
But you must choose.

Rebuke the lie —
Yes, you must try.
Receive the grace
And win the race.

Wounded World

Wounded is this world
By sin and strife.
Unhappy people,
Unhappy lives.

Dissatisfied and —
At an unpeace.
Looking for something;
Needing release.

Compassion is needed —
Understanding, love.
God’s intervention,
Grace from above.

Love to your neighbor,
Give compliments.
Brotherly friendship,
It only makes sense.

Build up; don’t tear down.
Encourage; not bully.
Don’t take it personally;
Grudges are silly.

Now, if only I can
Take this advice,
I’ll be one person
Making things right.

Blest are the broken,
Shattered and torn,
Those who are weeping,
Those who now mourn.

In our deep sorrow
God is so near.
He walks beside us —
We need not fear.

From broken pieces
He now creates
Mosaic of His beauty —
Majesty great.

Be not ashamed now
Of broken heart.
Know that He loves you
And make a new start.

What Is the Beauty?

What is the beauty in a flower?
What draws me to its fragrant bliss?
All I can think, and only this —
It praises Father every hour.

Why do the mountains call to me?
Why so majestic, bold, and grand?
They often tell me of His plan,
His might and power, His purpose grand.

Why does the ocean call to me?
Why crashing waves do beckon still?
Only because my Savior’s voice
Is hidden in their mighty power.

Why do I till and dig the earth?
Now planting seeds that will give birth?
Because the seed that once seemed dead
Will bring new life upon the earth.

Now every day He speaks to me
In seed and flower, in meadows bright.
Though blind and deaf I tend to be
His light and love will make me right.

Healing Rain

Rush of the rain,
In waves and showers.
Thirsty the earth,
Now will come flowers.

Like Holy Spirit
Comes the rain.
Watering soul
And life again.

Dry was the earth
And hard as iron.
Dead was my soul
‘Til caught on fire.

Spirit of God
Will now break forth.
Like little seedling,
Life brings hope.

Paralysis

If all the world is trouble,
And everywhere I step
Seems some poor soul is suff’ring —
These things I can’t forget.

Within me stirs compassion
And tears do often fall,
But better still if I knew how
To answer action’s call.

It seems sometimes I’m in a dream
Where body cannot move —
The spur to action paralyzed,
Though there is much to do.

How did I end up in this fog
Of thick pea soup — so still?
Can’t speak, can’t shout — I don’t know why,
But truth will conquer still.

On my nightstand in a pile,
Lie twenty books or more.
Inside each one I’ve read a bit
And then found them a bore.

Yes, this is one I’ve read before,
And that one’s just too gross,
Another one’s too shallow,
The fourth one’s too morose.

Perhaps these lands of fantasy —
Where books my soul do bring,
Can they no longer satisfy —
Reality’s the thing?

But as a child I wandered,
Devoured every word.
One book a day I swallowed
And ate the printed word.

And still I’ll wander to those lands
For, yes, they help me dream
Of that which can, or yet will be,
Of worlds as yet unseen.

Confession

The wound of sin
Festers within,
Until God’s light
Can make it right.

Why try to hide
The pain inside?
The healing comes
When brought to light.