You will Never be put to Shame

If shame is bound up
In all our brokenness
Our sense of not being enough
Of being less than others
Of missing something necessary
To make us loveable
Desirable, befriendable, includable
Dependable and valuable

Jesus invites us to trust in Him
To trust in His enough-ness
To believe in His view of us
To embrace our inclusion
And belonging and belovedness.
He says, look at me
And know who you are
Sons and daughters

Adored children
Inheritors of all that is good
Co-regents in ruling
Fellow seers in seeing
Hand on the rope next to Him
Partners in pulling the kingdom
Into today
Just a little bit more.

Trusting Him
Means standing tall
A deep knowing of goodness
A leaning into embraced-ness
A falling
But held fast-ness
No shame in falling
Not ashamed of standing.

How tall you are
How glorious
Your eyes flash with knowing
Enlivened with longing
Your being exudes strength
That belies the size of your frame
Which somehow seems larger now.

Feet planted on terra firma
You are nevertheless
Other-worldly, your being
Brings a message from beyond:
Trust in Him
You will never be put to shame.

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Time Travel

The places I've lived Live inside me Like so many Russian dolls. Their different faces Appear, with a certain scent, A particular quality of light And air. The smell of freshly cut grass Brings England out to greet me. Tennis on a hot afternoon; Cold beer beside a canal; School uniforms; the BBC news; Christmas carols with the smell of Hot cloves. Crashing waves on a wintry beach And Cape Town grabs my hand. The smell of ozone on damp air; A certain vibe, somewhere Between vintage and cool; Sundowners on the stoop, and I'm there. Fresh fish roasting on open coals, Mozambique makes an appearance. A drumbeat heard outdoors; The smell of candle wax Or kerosene; bumping over a pothole; Sleeping under a mosquito net; still Getting bitten. All these places are inside me. Not part of history but Part of my soul. Time is not a straight line of Consecutive events So much as a kaleidoscope, Concertinaed within. And I am all these...

Silence

I think of the poem I wrote, That I wanted to read to you. I think of the way I wanted To ask you to pray with me. And yet my words are stuck In my throat, I can't afford to need you this much. I can't risk the disappointment o f disinterest, The disillusionment of good intentions Fallen flat. They say hope disappointed makes The heart sick, and my heart is sick. And fragile, and full of shadows. But the risk of sharing that with you Is too great. I cannot be the needy one, Am tired of being one thing Instead of many things. I want to claim my strength and perseverance, My resilience and fortitude. But all you see is this sadness And so, I keep silent.

What is Beauty?

Wild, untended spaces, Enclosed. Or open. Brushwood and leaf litter, Thorny. Tree canopy overhead, Welcome shade. Not far away Well-tended villas, Manicured lawns behind High walls. Clean lines, lush green Bright and showy. Beauty is everywhere. We find it, We make it. The best kind of beauty Is the kind we share with others Easily, generously. Like sitting in sunlight Under a tree Content to be ourselves.

Gobble Funking Around With Words

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