Tag: death

Day 5 (and 6): The Stafford Challenge – Two for … Wednesday?

Well, I dropped the ball yesterday and didn’t get my poem posted. So, that makes today a two-for day! I only wish it was Tuesday and not Wednesday so I would have that wonderful alliteration for today’s title.

These poems got a little dark on me, but I think this almost always tends to happen when I write. I do embrace the light in my life (abiding in Jesus is the only place to find true peace), but when I write, whatever I’m troubled about comes through. I hope if you are reading this you find them intriguing.

Day 5 (and 6).

Judge Not

The judgment finger is upon her. She turns to the wall, accepts death, weeps bitterly from the mouth that used to laugh at the prophet. “This one only ever tells me bad news. Where’s that girl who only ever tells me bad news?” Her goblet slopping fine wine down her fingers glistening with polish and jewels. “You are well, princess! You are loved! Your life will be nothing if not romance and pleasure for all your days!” She laughs, white teeth shining, smoky eyes lazily glancing over the overdressed dead under black, weighty lashes. “Where is the one who always gives bad news?” “Gone! Gone!” They bow, hoping to please. ” We beat her, excluded her, wrote nasty things on her social media. You’ll never hear her ugly, plain words again!” And she runs her weak fingers down the stucco wall against her bed, thoughts swimming and lingering with dread.

Something Hurts

Uneasy in spirit and soul. Electricity tickling the back of my neck. Part of it, a face in pain. The one I love. The look in his eyes touching somewhere I’m not conscious. The other part, the death of someone I said was nice. Who’s that? I don’t really know him. We met a couple times. He’s nice. Found dead. Took a minute because he’s always alone. Nothing unusual, even when the dogs barked a little more. He’s nice. But dead. Found naked. Alone. Dirty dishes. Dog feces. Face down. Found him there. Skin like wax. Cold. Alone. Thought I would have to explain the broken door. Apologize. Say, I’m sorry, dude, we were only worried you weren’t answering your phone. Stacks of filth. Something lingers on the back of my neck. He’s nice. He was nice. A nice guy.

Day 4: The Stafford Challenge

I took a day off yesterday (Sunday) to study my Bible, go to church, and pray and relax and refocus on God on His Word. I’ll probably take every Sunday off for this challenge, but since this is the Christian-ized Stafford Challenge, I think taking a day of rest every week is appropriate and necessary, to shift it all back to Him.

I also thought I’d include my Bible verse inspiration with this one. I probably won’t do this every time, but sometimes someone out there is looking for a fresh word from God and I always want to enable the Holy Spirit to do His thing.

Verse of the day:

He remembered that they were but flesh, a wind that passes and comes not again.

Psalm 78: 39 (ESV)

Day 4, here we go. Back to it.

Passing Wind

A wind that passes and comes not again. She’s not here anymore, gone with the fading breeze, all traces slowly disappearing in the minds of those she loved. When You breathe, Lord, do you inhale it all back to Yourself? A universe is born in it, millions of atoms knitted by it in a womb, a seed with all it needs to grow into a mighty oak, to be felled and die, food for the skittling insects. Breathe into mud, he is man. Death sneaks a crooked cough into her lungs. You pity our flesh, tried it out a bit yourself once and groaned. Though love kept you in that frail man-suit, itchy like a cheap sweater. She holds that holy flesh to her lips, covers them in tears and breathy cries pouring over that skin in oil-like praise. When his breath covers her in its gentle gusts to take her away, she’s ready.