I Would See Jesus (August 28, 2013)

I arrive

About 8:30 a.m.

On August 28

To take up the banner cry…

“We shall all be free”…

And march

Once again

To Lincoln’s Memorial

Looking

Over

The “Reflecting Pool”

In remembrance of

“The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King”

And “The March on Washington”

Of nineteen-hundred and sixty three

When he proclaimed

In his now infamous speech

“I Have A Dream Today” -

When we marched

Hand-in-hand

Along Constitution Avenue

And sang out

Into the sphere…

These truths we hold most dear –

Freedom is our rightful entitlement!

Inequity is unacceptable,

And we will not consent to this unholy predicament.

Justice must and will prevail!

We cannot and will not fail.

For we are marching up the King’s highway

Where soft rains call lightly on the day

Sprinkling cooling baptismal dew

Sweetly anointed

In grace and mercy under clouds gray

With the breeze’s whispers

In the humid air

That yes,

God does indeed care.

Our God Who walks in the midst of the waters

To teach the gospel of brotherly love

Ordained from heaven above.

So as we march this new morning

Under the awning

Of the challenge to change directions

A long time coming

When we shall

Rise up

On wings of eagles

In the blaze of glory

Of that great ole Son-ship story

Told before time began

And is now

Praise our God

At His right hand

So I thank You

Lord God

For sending forth

Your messenger of hope

To speak Your heart

To this day that the Lord has made

And is justly well-laid.

Thank You

Our Abba Father Jehovah-nissi

(The-Lord-Is-My-Banner)/

Our Abba Mother El-Shaddai

(God Almighty)

Thank You

For showing forth

Your Presence

Among us

In the essence

Of the new messengers

Taking the stage

To re-invigorate our hearts and minds,

To continue the fight

For civil and equal rights,

To re-determine the goal foretold

That we ain’ gon’ let nobody turn us around,

That we will stand our higher ground

And be not dismayed

And be not moved

Or any-wise way-laid

We continue the move ahead

On this path to victory bound…

On this blood-paved road

Towards

Fairness,

Rightness,

Legitimacy,

Truth

And all that is

Justice…

In this land of liberty

And the born free

These generations gathered

Around and about

The Memorial Mall

Call

To action

The forces against

Cruelty and intolerance,

Against systemized oppression

And customized repression

We stand at the steps

Of holy ground

With Congressman Louis

And we will

“Put our shoulders against the stubborn gates

Holding the American people back…

These barriers in the hearts of humankind

That form a gulf between us”

And which broadens the lines of hate and distrust

And we will not be moved

We have kept the faith,

We have kept hope alive,

We have gone against the grain,

And our living                                                                               

And dying

Will not be in vain

Because we are a people

Who have fought against blind injustice

In Albany and Birmingham,

Trekked across the muddy roads

From Selma to Montgomery –

Beaten and battered,

Stood against vicious attacks in Chicago

And Detroit,

Plowed the mine fields in Georgia and Mississippi,

Rose and died in Tennessee

To rise again

In Washington, D.C.

And we shall not be moved

We are a tree planted by the waters

Of righteousness!

We shall not be moved

Or disproved

Unto Thee I sing…

Let freedom ring –

Let freedom ring –

And sound out the song

For the soon-to-be-coming King.

“Mine eyes have seen the glory

Of the coming of the Lord!”  MLK

For assuredly,

This is the day of the Lord

And I shall rejoice and be glad in it

Today

This is the day that the Lord has made

And we shall

Over-come

What may

 “For I am persuaded beyond doubt

That neither death nor life,

Nor angels nor principalities,

Nor things impending and threatening

Nor things to come, nor powers,

Nor height nor depth, nor anything else

In all creation will be able to separate us

From the love of God

Which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  Romans 8:38-39

9/11/13

Give us this day our daily bread

Give us the sustenance of life-

Giving fuel to ordain the day

To address the needs of life-

Everlasting

To bring-in the day of the Lord

To conclusion

As we seek wisdom, knowledge

And understanding

Of the way of God

Sustain us with Your great grace and mercy

Which endures forever

Forgive continually

And we do thank You Lord

For Your blessed forgiveness

Eradicate un-forgiveness

And hardened hearts in Your beloved community

Of light

Help us

To truly love one another

As You have loved us

Through the sacrifice

Of the Lamb of God

Being Christ Jesus

Hear the words of our hearts

And the meditations of thoughts

For the good of man

To know You full-well

And to come into the place of kingdom life

Give Obama the seeds of peace

The Nobel peace

Bestowed upon him at the beginning of his service

As President of these

United-States

Of America

Give him courage

Forethought

A sound mind

Give him the guidance in spirit

And in the truth of right in Christ

As he seeks You on bended knees

Desiring to do Your perfect will

Please God

Help him to hear the Voice of God

In his innermost ear

Bless us in this great body of Christ

Bring forth Your manifested sons

Into the day dawning

Even now

Says the Spirit of grace and truth

Let Your tender mercies fill our hearts

As the bounty of the sun

Shining on the sea

To shining sea

Amen

I pray

In the name of Who Is

The Father

The Son

And The Holy Spirit,

Praise the Lord God

“In quietness and in trusting confidence

Shall be your strength,”  Isaiah 30:15

Papa Doble “Hemingway”

 

 

 ...................

Reflecting on you...

While trekking

Through the chambered

Quarters  

Of the captain’s domain

Which bears your name,

I came down,

“A Cat in the Rain,”

To the old village town

Anchored in the southern Keys,

In the middle of splashing breaker waves

Towering native palms,

Blooming tropic trees,

With plush opulent leaves

And fertile green seas

Whose black marlin blues

In silver striped hues

Rise up in the light white

To meet the deep blue azure

Of the wide Gulf Stream

Coursing

In the purple-like smells

Of cool ocean breeze

Scuttling in and gushing out

In the rushing white swells

Off the coastal bed

Nearby me…

In red. 

“Today is Friday”

I stand afoot

The wooden planks

In “A Clean, Well lighted Place”

Where you rambled about your stable.

I like the ceramic figurines

Which sit atop the mirrored dressing table.

I like the two wooden African statues

Across from your sleeping bed.

And I like the glass-cased bookshelf

Displaying the books you read.

It is “A Soldier’s Home”

I like the photos of your friends and comrades

Among your travels and ventures east and west

And places north and south of the Border crest.

I like your collection of antique fixtures

And vintage-year mixtures.

It is The Enduring Hemingway"

I especially love the setting of your writing room

And the way my breath is caught in my womb.

I am consumed!

It is “A Moveable Feast”

Raindrops sprinkle the lush gardens and pebbled pathways

About your sanctured haven

And I love the wetness of the light rain bathin’

I love visiting you there

And you touching me here

In my inner-most ear

And all the rest of elsewhere

Loving you…

I gave thought

To “the Sea”

Shaping the flood gates opening through

Your window pane

Alight in the apparitions

Of the calms before the storms

When moments of truth

Collide   

Headlong

Onto the shifting dust tracks in the road

When low whispering reels

Bloom with the lilies of the fields

Transporting the barren deserts

And “the sudden emergence of daffodils”

Into “Islanded Gardens in the Stream”

Splendid it seems

As the “Green Hills of Africa”

Just beyond “the dry side of the valley”

While the House of God

Lay frozen

In the dried blood

Of the white hunter’s snare

There

Yonder between the reeds

Over the bridge

“Across the River and

Into the Trees”

Where

The road meets the cross

For the lost

Within the metered rhythm

Of a simply stated coil

Planted gently in the soil

As a lyrical narrative

To unleash the roots

Of tender young shoots

…And sometimes, strange fruits

“Rising” up in

Backdrops of setting “Suns

And starry nights

“Silhouetted on the rise of the banks”

When spotted leopards,

“The coolly majestic” Lion cats,

And other un-tame game

Meandered across the great divides

Telling tales of seafaring whales

And ocean sails

To “The Last Good Country”

While the notorious bounty

Of glorified injustice

And mocked manners

Of indifference

Are swept to the floor of fallen grace

By the prize in prejudice

And “the pursuit of happiness” are

Stitched together with masked

Tapestries reflected

In the looking glass

Atop of the snow capped summit

Of Mount “Kilimanjaro’s”

Hallowed hills

Adorned

“White in the sun”

“Like White Elephants”

“In the Garden of Eden”

“At first light”

Emerging 

Across the battle fields of grain,

Along the banks of the river-bend

High and lifted up

In stories for the ages

Austered in metaphoric pages

Falling gently on the prose as a rose

Twirled in black lace

In- twine within the white lines

Drawn along side the face

Of the beauty and the beast,

The tragedy and the pageantry

Of triumph

And the defeat

Of cocks and bulls running wild

In bravura style guile

Under the huntsman’s gaze

Ablaze

In the thrill of “the good kill”

White-hot

Like the blast furnace

Trumpeting the sound

Of “their baggage animals”

From the horns of east Africa

Where the antelope and the buffalo roamed

To

“The west bank of the Big Wood River”

“Up in Michigan”

Beyond the hemlock forest,

Past times of tall pines

Alone in the cold white mist

Shading the gray dawn

Lifting over the ocean bed

Like the ends of the spider’s web

Bridged over troubled waters

Creeping up the stairs

To the floors far above

Where mythical messages of whispery

Voices

Border confusions, illusions and delusions

Of conflict

In the trenches up river,

Abiding

Alongside “the burned-out ravaged terrain.”

“It swirled against the logs of the bridge”

Where the Missouri breaks

Upon the dawn of eluding light years

Gray dimmed by twilight fears

Falling too quickly upon the blades  

Of weathered grass

Where you laid your crown

And slept

Under the cloaked sky

And perhaps sometimes wept

Over the lost of true love “Having” gone

But “Not” forgotten

When dreams drift in lonely streams

Of “Springtime in Paris”

Bringing “Torrents” of whimsy in the night

Fronting the inner mirrors

Highlighted in the corner there

Where 

Wounds inflicted by “Fathers and Sons”

Are moored  

To the dead “On the Quai at Smyrna”

In “The Long Valley”* of the shadow of death

Lined with hidden crevices and secret panels

Skirting the cold dark waters of the deep gulf channels

To unexplored worlds

When the wild blue yonder

Takes pause

And calls…

In the haunting wilderness refrain…

“Death had come…

And rested its head on the foot of the cot

And he could smell its breath.”

“Old brother death had come…

On a warm “…Summer” morn

In the hills of Ketchum.

Death alone had come…

For this seasoned gent -

This lion in Winter’s end,

Don Ernesto,

“For Whom the Bell Tolled”

In his season of discontent.

“Farewell…”

My friend – mon ami

“Old man of the Sea.”

Thanks for being

“In Our Time”

And in mine

Probing the depths of the sublime

Far out from the boundaries of the shoreline.

“We fish together now

For I still have much to learn,”

And discern…

In this light of today…

For it is written… so poignantly…

            “One generation passeth away, 
            And another generation cometh,

But the earth abideth forever.

The sun also rises

And the sun goes down,

And hastens to the place where he arose.

.....................

The Wind goes to the south

And circles about to the north;

It circles and circles continually,

Ever returning on is course.

All the rivers flow into the sea,

Yet the sea is never full.

To the place from where the rivers come,

To there and from there they return again.”

(Ecclesiastes 1:4-7)

“Man is not made for defeat.

Man can be destroyed,

But not defeated.” (Hemingway)

“For whatever is born of God

Is victorious over the world;

And this is the victory that conquers the world,

            Even our faith.” (1John 5:4)  Amen

*”The Long Valley” by John Steinbeck was featured

  in Hemingway’s Library

Special note:  Thanks to Carl Jaynes, my beloved friend,

who sponsored my trip to Key West, Fla

Photos taken in Key West (The Hemingway House; Birds at the pier)

The Artist

Cascading waters

Bricks and mortar

In the mirror

Reflecting grace

And beauty joined hands

To touch her face

Just so

She will know

The secret

Inside the Potter’s rings

Shaping things

“…And you shall be like a watered garden

And like a spring of water

Whose waters fail not.” (Isaiah 58:11)