there are eyes that seek reconciliation

I know you don’t come as easy as some but I will watch and pray.
The thoughts in my mind and the feelings in my eyes have swayed and swayed.
All the while beside me your presence has stayed.

Your body broke for me, your blood flowed for me.
I lift my being up to you, and we are in harmony.
Yet the sacrifice breathes and on my own, has tried to be free.

You walked on the water and I am being tossed by the waves.
My eyes see well the absence of what is humble and brave.
Can they see well your eyes from which this world will be saved?

I look into your eyes again and I see many a crimson string.
From whence come the melodies of your reconciling.
And I did not think the sound could cause such a stirring.

My mind thinks and my eyes know that you are worth everything.

to frustrate or not to frustrate... too late

I see myself, laughing, dancing, making music and praise
My Jejus dwelling amidst this joyous parade; spirit caught up in our hands that are raised.
I see myself with the Body and I am ecstatic, I am heavenly.
And I see myself in the depths of discontent, of hatred for this world.
I feel the burning heat of righteous anger over unjust activities, over unjust foundations built into tall powerful empires.
I see myself as David, facing not a giant, but a structure forged and administrated by a committee of Goliaths.
It feels as though I am the only one who sees,
Why do I feel the way I do?
Why does the Maker of sarah, reveal to me not only the historical facts of injustice, but the feeling of deep and piercing grief over such ramifications?
For no other reason than to feel intensely sorry?
Remember that there is a reason… this radical compassion surely is not futile.
I am sure that futility is not in your character, but I AM WEARY!
What would you have me do? I would desire that you take this compassion and mold it into a solid and active force within me.
Or have you already?
I see the armor that doesn’t fit me, I see the small stones by the brook,
Ah, and I see the sling that I dismissed this morning, as I do every morning.
To be honest, at times I utterly despise it.
Can heavenly praise and earthly battles dwell simultaneously?
Because they do within me.
Is frustration a swell word to ascribe to this soliloquy?
Please refrain from advising the following: don't let things frustrate you.
As if to say, Jesus don't let those money-changers in the temple anger you!
but please refrain from ceasing to bring to my memory
of the splendor of his words, his works, his life, his light.
His anger lasts a moment, and His favor lasts a lifetime.
So I'm allowed to dance and praise all of this, my lifetime.
And for the moment, I reach down to pick up my sling.