Luke 17:11-19

"Where Are the Other Nine?"

“Go and let the
priests examine you,”
Jesus said, and so in fulfillment of
the Law all ten crocuses
obeyed. While enroute to the priests,
they were each made clean, but
only one crocus decided to
return and thank Jesus.
Jesus said, “There were ten
made clean; where
are the other nine?”
The only reply the lone
crocus could make was to stand
in praise, radiant amidst last
autumn’s leaves of brown,
now clothed in Easter’s
finest purple raiment,
and tho’ a Samaritan, no
longer lost but found.

On the Shore

(Ode to Mary Magdalene)

Unfurl your heart,
dear woman, and across the
Sea of Galilee to the other
side set your sail.
There, on the far shore,
awaits you the Lord, dressed in His
garments of dazzling white,
Gethsemane defeated,
and gone forever the drops
of blood in fear of
Golgotha’s nails.

YHWH

Dear Lord God, eternal Father,
Creator of Heaven and earth, thank You for
the refuge of Your sheltering wings,
wings I, as your creature, can never describe, yet via a
smoky metaphor’s mirror they serve to soothe
my trembling. . .And thus towards them I crawl, O Lord,
to lie curled and fetal and protected beneath!
Whether in reality or dream, they are
what stands as my shield between me and the evil
of the serpent’s sting. Invisible as they be,
I sense their feathers outnumber the stars with the
scope and comfort of the shade and shadow of
their canopy. Such a haven You provide,
O Almighty “I AM,” faithful in Your protection and
promises, of which Your Heavenly hosts attest and sing!
Your wings I imagine radiate outward along
compass headings of Your Creation’s six days of work,
their azimuths streaking without beginning nor
ending, just the Truth of Your Writ and Word.
And I feel, Lord, that each radial line
is like a distinct Jacob’s Ladder, with
their center-point the beloved River Jordan, that
baptismal cup pouring forth the four letters
of Your Name’s grace and glory.

Holy, Holy, Holy

Lord, You are neither male
nor female in the limited terms in which
Your human creatures can think,
but the effect of Your Being
is akin to magnificent,
sheltering wings.
You provide shade and
shadow against life’s
blistering summer heat,
and at the first signs
of cold, Your wings enfold
into walls of comfort
against suffering. Your wings
are safe refuge for Your
creatures against storms
and terrors of the night, and against
anxieties which afflict their
sanity all efforts despite. How
good You are, Lord! How
generous and unyielding the
availability of Your
mercies! How so forgiving,
even to Adam and
Eve, who ignored Your
Garden of Eden warnings!
There is naught but
calmness in the Kingdom
beneath Your wings,
where supplicants can lie
at rest, lulled by the Sanctus in
angelic praise of Your
Love and Beauty.

Contemplating the Color of His Sacrifice

Sitting here,
The solitude around me
Is not just without sound. Its
Silence is painted
In blends of blood-red,
With nail holes and a
Spear puncture
Still softly oozing the
Aftermath of my sins, lo
Two millennia now His cruel
Calvary death, and
Even further back to when
The Serpent forked
Its tongue, and
Adam and Eve were
Cast outside the walls of
Eden’s heaven.