anathoth (Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15)

hope is

the pool of cool
            water
   found on the driest,
      hardest days of
      the journey, where
   i can be refreshed
         with life;

the needle and thread
            held gently
         in your fingers,
   as you cradled me
   on your lap
      gently stitching
               my soul
      back together;

the parcel in the
               kingdom
   i purchased when
   i said 'yes' all those
            years ago,
      and no matter
      how many times
      i have lived
                  'no'
         since then,
   the deed is still kept
         safely deposited
         in your heart;

the smell of the warm
                  bread
         just out of the
      oven and placed on
      the table set with glory,
            telling me
   you have been waiting   
                 for me
         to come home

hope
        simply

is . . .

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

the coin (Luke 15:8-10)

the world,
in a dither (as
            always)
    dumps out her purse,
    trying to find the car keys
        & the piece of paper
        with the estate sale's
                    address,
never noticing
    as i fall to the floor,
    rolling across the hardwood past
        the dozing cat (who barely
                twitches a whisker)
    until i end up tangled
        in the clump of dog hair
            curled under the chair;

you come along,
lifting the cushions
    from the sofa and loveseat,
        sticking your fingers
        into the crevices at
            the sides and back;
empty-handed,
you gaze around the room,
                suddenly
        grabbing the yardstick,
    you sweep back
    and forth under the chair
            to recover me;
    rubbing off the dirt,
touching up the nicks
        till i shine,
warming me in your
            hand, you whisper
    'i know
        exactly how to use you,'

going to the front door
    you give me away
        to the young man
        standing on the porch,
    who is trying to come
            up with the
        cost of a bus ticket
                    home

to his father.

(c) 2010 Thom M. Shuman