I was walking on water,
A precarious path,
Every step in danger of sinking.
Blowing and blinding,
Raging and spewing
I looked up.
Was my way sure?
Did I make a false step?
Did my ankle dip below?
What did I see?
Only the hope of your face.
I dropped my baby,
But she could swim.
Brandishing burnished Sword
Transparent in armour of Light
There stands the Warrior Maiden
Prepared for the darkest of night.
A curtain sliced through;
A way opened up;
Enters the Maiden
And drains the bloody cup.
Her life on the Altar
Long now has lain,
But up she has risen
Atonement to gain
For those who have hurt her
By whom she was slain.
She calls to the Judge,
“Forgive them my pain.”
Light pierces through;
The Earth opens up;
Stands forth her Beloved,
“You have drunk of my Cup.”
The two who are one
All infirmities feeling
Now spread out their hands
In forgiveness and healing.
Ector Ward, copyright 2006
Thank you Thursday Poets Rally for the Perfect Poets Award.
I nominate Harry Nicholson for the next award.
copyright Ector Ward, 2003, permission to use only if this URL is attached
A blackened web,
A close-knit shroud,
Encompasses the Earth
Of many words,
Ideas of men,
Enwoven tight and thick.
Though Heaven’s light
Does brightly burn
Still Earth in shadow lies.
A life laid down
A seed to die
Is planted in the crust
To grow on high
And burrow through
The shroud both tight and thick.
As leaves unfold
In warmth and light
The blackened web melts back.
-EW
The view in the painting is that of a sprout breaking through from under the soil to the sunlight. It also depicts the resurrected life, from a life willingly laid down, burrowing through the “blackened web.”
Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us:
and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.
1 John 3:16
Image copyright 1998 no permission granted
Despair in raging blackness
Assaults my lone ascent.
My footing slips
My fingers grip
And day may come too late.
Keep holding now
And fix the grip.
I’ll close my eyes and wait.
I grasp for tomorrow,
Away, it whisks through my hands,
Slips through my fingers,
Dissipates in a breeze.
Yet I reach.
I nervously strain.
I gaze.
I peer.
Grabbing binoculars,
I look,
But it’s never there.
It’s with me.
I feel it.
I grasp.
Again, it’s not there.
Oh, it is, and I see it.
Gone again, into the air.
Tomorrow –
So big I can’t see Today.
And just yesterday I reached
For what now is today.
It is here
And I hold it,
But tomorrow is bigger
And I push this away.
What if this Today is the great Tomorrow I seek?
Today was tomorrow only yesterday.
Tomorrow will be Today tomorrow.
Won’t it?
Today I have Today
Held in my hand.
I can’t blow it away.
It is here.
Tomorrow again
Will be only Today,
And I’ll hold it.
It’s real.
Tomorrow never is.
What we hold is the Great Today.
The Word in Vision 