Such things he says
Unfathomable, unearthly things And his metaphors are lost on me From where they come and to where they go I do not pretend to know And yet eye to eye one evening His reproof feels more like healing And there is life in his words. Such times he chooses Unfashionable, unexpected times And his methods are a shock to me For dead men he wakes to living and of bread He speaks always of giving And yet eating of him and drinking Yes it is a hard teaching But there is peace in his hands. So when she is thrust before him Unkempt, unclean woman And he stoops low to touch the dirt While the Pharisees incite their soldiers His just response cuts their blood-kill hunger And then he stoops and writes again She stands there uncondemned And there is grace in his heart. Comments are closed.
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AuthorI write to process. I write to explore. I write with the hope of sharing truth greater than my own. Archives
February 2022
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