Respect (Rev. 3:20)
A POEM
Gentle Lord, I love You.
You tiptoe ‘cross my heart.
You sit beside me quietly and wait.
For years I lost track of You,
But in some quiet hours
I heard Your gentle tiptoe at my gate.
And even when I opened
The gate to let You in
You tiptoed in with absolute respect
Hoping not to scare me
Or make me see too soon
The wondrous, awesome grandeur of my Guest.
How do I know You love me?
It is the quiet peace,
The patient way that You will work with me —
A Sovereign Who tiptoes
And treats with full respect
The one who could be simply property.
You May Also Enjoy
Clowns are grandfathers
painted with strokes of laughter
who kiss lollipops
but never lick them.
…Poetry was once understood to be an anthropological episteme, a way of knowing, if only through a glass darkly.
Have mercy, Lord, and by your blood
wash from my brain
the sly recurring pain
…