Things I Can’t Not Say

Don’t be misaligned,

don’t let your faith be defined

by lines drawn in shifting sand.

Don’t fall prey to hate

upon hate.

Let us not piggyback on politics

and legislated ethics.

Let go of perceived needs,

undeserved rights,

unneeded exemptions.

Who is your King?

To Whom do you submit?

Who holds your soul, after all?

Render unto Caesar so you can

turn the other cheek.

Freedom is not in the holding on.

Who is your king?

That calf in gold,

the one of your own making?

Where is your trust?

Those paper and ink abstract notions

re-named and re-claimed by any man,

consumable when put to the flame?

We put our trust in borders of wire

and wall and water and imaginary lines.

Are you willing to relinquish your citizenship, your membership,

you rights and rightness?

Revoke your borders?

Abandon your status?

I have called you to be a people without country,

without home,

without name,

except Mine.

No other name.

Deny my father.

Refuse my name,

And I’ll be newly baptized.


Ten Minutes to Midnight

Ten minutes to midnight, Christmas Eve,
Can we begin again?
Can we drop the excess and focus on presence –
Our presence,
His presence,
Our present tense life
Because this present, tense life scatters good intents
Like tinsel on the floor
Can we stop looking for chances to be offended
And start seeing the places for graces to land?
Can we give each other the benefit,
Not the doubt?
Can we turn our expectations inside out,
Make the story about You again?
About humble love, sacrifice, miracles, awe?
Can we extend love to the farthest reaches of our fingertips,
Casting lasting hope in the corners we ignore?
Can we bring our offerings, our mountains, before Him,
Lay them at His swaddled feet,
Recognize that love and surrender beat all?
Can we begin again and see You this time?