spoilsport

personally
(and please don't
take this personally)
there are those times
when i wish i were an
orphan . . .

then,
i could ditch
my Easter outfit
and put on my
all-too-human skin
again;
then,
i could
be cranky
without guilt
belaboring the point;
then,
i might just enjoy
treating people
the way they seem
to enjoy treating me.

But nooooo!
You have to go
and make Spirit
my sibling . . .

and spoil all my sin.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman
(based on John 14:15-21

fare

good-bye
is not in your vocabulary,
Embracing Love,
but you speak
grace,
so may that gift
swell gently
in our hearts;

ta-ta
is a word you've never
spoken,
but you sing
thanksgiving
for friendships
which last beyond
painful departures;

ciao
is an attitude
you do not reflect,
but you
celebrate with us,
even as we let go
of hands that have
encouraged us
through the years;

farewell
is not forever,
but your faith
which brought us together
and binds us forever,
is the promise
we will see
even when our
remembrances
fade.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman

indeed (you are!)

indeed (you are!)

when our GPS
shorts out,
you blow the dust
off the map
written
on our hearts
so we can find
our way
home;

deadened by the
old songs of the old guard,
flooded by the
slick siren calls
of the sellers,
you cradle your hand
and hold it to our ears,
whispering,
'have a cuppa
truth';

as our days dribble on
dully
despairingly
dryly,
you hand us
life's pogo stick,
and laugh with
delight
at our foolish attempts
to follow
your lead.

and
finding every door
shut in our face,
you clean up
the Pilgrim Suite
at Abba's B&B,
where we can stay
forever.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 23

my steward,
you share with me
all i need;
my babysitter,
you tuck me under
the green quilt
of love;
my teacher,
you lift me up
to drink from
serenity's fountain;
my guide,
you point out
the walking paths
to hope.

when the power fails,
you take my hand,
so i won't trip
over the furniture
the evil one
has moved around
in the darkness.
your heart,
your joy
are a warm shawl
for my cold
soul.

you whip up
a gourmet meal
(but ask me
to share the
leftovers
with those who
never gave me
a crumb)
you pour grace
into my heart
until it overflows,
running down the
kingdom's streets,
so kids can
splash in its
puddles.

leniency and goodwill
tiptoe after me
wherever i go,
until i make it
safely
home,
where we will live
rent-free,
watching the sunset
that never ends.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman

easter eyes

lost,
i take
a shortcut just
down this alley,
where anger
and agony come
tagging after me;

wandering,
i explore the wide avenues
of the world,
whose hope
has been potholed
with despair;

wondering,
i glance at the map,
and race down
the next street,
only to find sin
standing in every
doorway,
enticing me with its
fingers sticky
with temptation;

then we turn down
Emmaus Road,
where the aroma
of fresh-baked life
wafts out each window,
and, tapping me on the shoulder,
you shout, 'go!'
and race me
home.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman