Keepers of the Light

She stands alone
In the quiet of the lighthouse
Silently searching
The surface of the sea.

She watches for those ships
Who may have lost their way
In the dark fog.
She shines her light
And lets them see their way home.

She doesn’t ask how or why they strayed.
She only knows they did,
And her job is
The keeper of the light.

She does it well.

One can never tell
When it will be we
Who are called to be
Keepers of the light—
Not to speak, or to steer,
Simply to watch,
Then share our light
And welcome the ships home.

The Gardener

Memory
like a fragile blossom
blooms
then fades
then is forgotten.

Still,
I will plant
the hopeful seedling
though I know
it’s gift is fleeting.

I will still
breathe
the gentle scent
though I know
it’s transient.

I will still marvel
at the flower,
revel in
its glory hour.

I will still
kiss
its velvet leaves
and, with its wilting
will I grieve.

But I will plant
that seedling still,
bending to
a higher will.

Phoenix

She rises
from the ashes
of a consuming flame
(hence the name)
more brilliant that she'd
Ever been.
Eternal fires
Kindled within.

In the Garden

I labor in the vineyard

barefoot and bare-souled

clinging to the tools I'm given

with a weak and trembling hold,

waiting to lay the world aside,

my mind on the din and clutter,

hoping for some small simple relief

in a promised world, new and better.

As my bruised knees hug the soil,

as my fingers bleed and toil,

as I tend both petal and thorn,

a seedling of new faith is born.

And as His Spirit soothes my pain,

as He cools my sweat with rain,

as His hand encloses mine,

it's easier to tend the vine.

Sportsmanship

This is the game

I said I'd never play.

Rules I thought I knew

suddenly changed by you.

I don't know what to say.

Time-out called mid-play.

I spoke,

and the whistle blew.

Penalty imposed by you.

I don't know what to do...

We, the team,

are split in two.