Wednesday, June 24, 2009

canticle 130

i dangle my toes over
the curb of my heart,
my toes washed in
those tears racing
towards the storm drain,
my keening words
echoing through the
empty streets;

if you wrote all my sins
on the blackboard
you would run out of schools,
but the Spirit stays after class,
banging dusty death out of the
begging your pardon
for Crossing
out your work;

more than those
who watch the clock
on the graveyard shift,
i wait (we wait!) for hope
to be the lyrics of
the music of your heart,
more than a rooster
scanning the horizon
for that first glimpse of dawn -

we hope
for you . . .

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

in the still of the night

i can cross the t's
and dot every i
in my doctrinal
blue book
during the mid-terms,
but cast off
into my dusky life
as the storm clouds
gather on the horizon?

i can (intellectually)
affirm certain teachings
(though that predestination
thingy has always bugged me,
but you knew that before the
foundations of the world
were poured, right?)
but calmly, without a whimper,
resist crawling under the covers
when lightening strikes
and thunder rumbles
through my heart?

i can memorize
all the creeds
and parrot every
confession of faith,
but keep on steering
through the waves
crashing over my soul
without looking over
my shoulders to see
if you have woken up?

what do you think
i am


(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Thursday, June 11, 2009

by . . .?

from chasing after
every image
flashed before me
by sin's sirens
(by faith,
i can walk through
the flowers of the

all those angry
words packed in
so tight, i can only hear
their hollow echoes
(by faith,
i can hear
the soft whispers of

the noxious nosh
piled high on the
platter of my soul
(by faith,
i can feast
on the simple
quenching my thirst
from the everflowing

every word i imagine
slips quickly into the life
of those around me,
tripping them on
their journey
(by faith,
i can rest in silence
until the word
another needs
blossoms from the

by faith
(even me)
has become

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman