I’ve begun rereading Exodus for my devotions and am struck again and again by the motifs that are fulfilled in Christ, often in unexpected ways.
Tag: poem
An Easter Rehearsal
I know my feet are prone to slip, unsure, So I play it again: Alleluia. And I know my hands may strike without measure, So
Hymn to The Reconciler
I worked on this sonnet throughout Holy Week but, as my organist schedule would have it, did not have a chance to revise and publish
VII. The Blind Man (8:22-26)
Touch me, someone,That I might know you’re there! Greet me, anyone,So I am not aloneIn this dark, dark, darkness. I am begging,Begging for more than
VI. The Deaf Man (7:31-37)
I cannot tellWhat these gestures mean.Why do you all waveYour hands at me? I can only guess atThe words on your lipsAnd can only makeVain attemptsTo
V. The Paralytic (2:1-12)
People just keep goingAround, across, Any way they can.Directionless,They do not notice the manWho motionless,Waits. They step over me, Their limbs stretching usefullyEven as they
