Sunday, July 24, 2005


not the bureaucrats
or the pundits
singing their seductions
in my soul;

[nothing can]

not life
(my biggest excuse
for not spending more time
with you);

[nothing can separate]

not time
driving me to distraction,
nor distance
which entices me
with its freedom;

[nothing can separate me]

not even death
sitting on my shoulder
(trying not to be a burden)
everywhere i go;

nothing can keeps us apart,
God of the loving heart,



no thing

not even me.


(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

Sunday, July 17, 2005

you thought for a moment,
and creation sprang forth
from your Wisdom;

and now
you know my thoughts:
anger that can
crush another's spirit,
contempt that can
drown a dream,
hatred which could
cripple a lover.

you spoke a Word,
and healing came
into death's shattered shadows;

and now
before i can say a word,
you know:
the loneliness
which stalks the night,
the sin
which corrodes my heart,
the emptiness
which fills my soul.

you know all this,
and yet,
you reach out
to take me by the hand
and to walk with me
that at the last,
i can be with you.

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

Thursday, July 07, 2005

we pray this morning
for people we do not know,
who have suffered terribly
at the hands of terror:
for the injured,
for the dying,
for those who have died;
for the families, and friends,
and neighbors.

We pray this morning,
on this sad morning,
for those who treat the injured:
doctors, nurses,
ambulance drivers, helpers;

for those who search:
for the injured,
for answers,
for hope.

and we pray this morning,
but because you have asked us to,
for those whose lives
are controlled by hate and anger,
not love and hope.

we pray this morning,
searching for answers,
for healing for understanding.

we pray this morning
because that is all we can do.

hear us, O God.


(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

Saturday, July 02, 2005

eating lunch alone
at the table by the window,
i saw a homeless man stroll by,
fed on the empty promises
of a forgetful society;

walking alone to the ballpark
for today's game,
i passed a woman
struggling to manuever
her wheelchair onto a sidewalk
which had no ramp;

working at my desk,
while my colleagues
are out celebrating a birthday,
i thought of the little boy
i saw on the bus,
reaching for his father's hand,
which was occupied
with the latest thriller.

Lord who prayed alone
in Gethsemane's garden:

may my loneliness
not be something
i hug to myself,
but the means to reach out
to others more lonely.


(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman