Sunday, February 24, 2008

bucket list

each morning,
i fill my bucket
at the Well of Sin,
and by the time
i get halfway through the day,
i have to turn around
to get more;
will you meet me there
to fill me with salvation?

in the middle of the night,
i find my bucket
from nightmares;
will you meet me
at the Well of Dreams
to tell me every hope
you have for me?

in the silence of my soul,
i discover that bucket
called my heart
is cracked by the heat
of my anger,
is holed by the hurts
of others;

will you meet me
at the Well of Grace,
to refresh me
with healing's
flowing stream,
to fill me
with the nectar
of sweet life?

Thursday, February 14, 2008

piano man

at the bar, where
he's been nursing his wounds
after a long bored meeting,
Nick pushes himself to his feet,
wandering over to
the cigarette-scarred
where Jesus is
slowly plinking
'in the still of the night'

putting a dollar
in the chipped glass,
he begins to chat
with the guy
who can do wonders
with just a few notes;

nodding slowly,
listening carefully
Jesus looks up
and smiles:
'my man,
you need a new dance partner!'
nodding to the corner;

as Nick turns,
he sees Spirit
waiting with open arms

'but, Nick,'
Jesus whispers,
'you gotta let her lead . . .'

as he swings into
a bluesy
'i could have danced
all night'

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman

Sunday, February 10, 2008

blame game

it's the snake's
you see . . .

that's why
i look at the outcasts
with a chill-carved face,
that's why i offer the poor
soup full of rocks;

it's that snake,
you see . . .

coiling around me,
whispering that i
am on my own,
no One
to guide me;
no One
to follow;

it's him, you see . . .

crafting money, power
success into icons
that slip so comfortably
into my pocket, my dreams,
my life.

in the wilderness
the tester wears my face,
offering me
petty pride,
dubious hopes,
faithless fears.

if only i
blame the snake!

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman

Sunday, February 03, 2008

transfigure me, please

i'll meet you
on the mountaintop;
but could you come
and find me
in Lost Valley?

i'll build you
a home
in my heart;
but could you visit
that hovel
called hopelessness?

i'll worship you
on Praise Peak;
but could you cherish
me when grief
knocks me down;

i'll bathe myself
in glory's light,
but could you wash away
sin's shadow
which stains me?

i'll promise
not to tell a soul;
but could you whisper
that i am

i'll try to wait,
but when i can't,
could you transform
my fear into faith
and raise me to life?

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman