Respecting the awesome power of words!

Posts tagged “peace

May You

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For a while you shared a lifetime;
though it seems but a flash;
and never enough;
and always too soon;
and too painful to bear.

All of these are true.

May your memories,
and Keats and Oliver
and all the poets whose pens
were filled with the ink
of their own
painfully dripping blood,

and the DNA shared
with your kin — physical genes
as well as spiritual ones —
and the people who’ve been
and are your neighbors
through the years,
all weave a comforting blanket
of presence to brace
your tired shoulders
against the biting cold wind
of the valley
of the shadow of death.

May you take one step at a time,
one day at a time;
and on the days when you can
neither stand nor step,
may you find sleep,
if not dreams,
beneath a warm quilt of hope.

May there come a day
when the light pushes
the shadows back
into the deep woods
from whence you’ve journeyed
for much longer
than you dreamed possible.

May you recognize home,
once again;
and may your breath
be restored.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

 

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DBV

zDBV

 

      Death by violence;
    it is the trademark
  of a culture predicated
on consumption as arrival
  and competition for survival.

      The socioeconomic sausage grinder
    uses people like inanimate ingredients
  in a secret family recipe,
where nothing matters
  but the finished product,
    and the only ones not
      on the menu are those
    who’ve schemed or entitled
  their way to a table for one.

      When you hear the engine groan
    for lack of fodder, and
  squeal for lack of lubricant,
be sure to check the list
  of ingredients needed
    to satisfy the beast.

      No matter the euphemism
    behind which it's cloaked,
  if what's really called for
are the bones and blood
  of human lives,
    maybe it's time to build
      a more just machine;

      time to confess
    that stockpiled weaponry,
  war’s machinery,
tilted and justified incarceration,
  and border-based enslavement
    aren’t really meant
      to keep us safe or
    help the weak defend
  and provide for themselves,
but to keep power mongers on top. 

      Maybe it’s time to take
    this kind of sausage
  off the menu, and
search our collective souls
  for more sustainable fare.

            © 2017 Todd Jenkins

Eternity

zeternity-ashley goadPhoto by Ashley Goad

 

The church marquee read,
"We will all have eternal life.
Where will you choose
to spend yours?"

as if either eternity itself,
or the choice we make
regarding it, or both, are located
somewhere in the (distant?) future.

Eternity is not just
a future proposition.

By definition, it extends
in both directions across
the time continuum for infinity,
beginning long before any
of us breathed our first,
and continuing long after any
of us breathe our last. 

The more relevant question, then,
is not how WILL we spend eternity,
but how ARE we already spending
the part of it during which
we have life and breath?

We can accept judgmentalism and fear,
or we can choose grace and hope.

One choice feels like hell’s death
already sucking the life out of us;
the other, like paradise
being born, day by day. 

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

 


Table Talk

ztable talk

Those who prey upon our angst,
peddling patriotism and nationalism
beneath a thick veneer of anxiety,
glossed-over with a heavy coat
of exceptionalism, do not want us
to pray in the name of the Nazareth one;

at least not to pray
with the honesty and
depth he did.

They do not want us to read
the gospels with open eyes;

at least not to read
them with hearts peeled wide,
so that the ones he welcomed,
the ones he celebrated,
the ones he dined with,
the ones he fed, healed,
and lifted up will be given
a seat at the table.

Fear, and his cousin, Scarcity,
have constructed a tiny world
whose table has a limited,
manageable number of chairs.

These two cannot imagine
the magnanimity
of Abundance's story.

Their notion of Grace
is tightly throttled,
so it applies only
to a chosen few who
deserve and/or have earned it;
which, if you consider the meaning,
has nothing to do with Grace at all.

We must not be deceived,
however, into patting ourselves
on the back for recognizing
her face in a few other places,
for that is but another form
of competition and comparison.

She shows up every day,
not so much incognito,
as just plain unrecognized,
because we all have scars
on the retina of our narratives
blinding us to her presence.

When we pour our hopes and
dreams into the same story,
we will begin, together,
to help one another
more clearly see out of
and into our shadowed lives.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

 


Holy Warriors

lee l mckinney 06Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

Humans of one religion
killing humans of another,
solely because of their faith,
is nothing less than absurd.

Does it happen?
Not nearly as much
as the media would
have us believe.

Not that killing is fabricated;
but that religion, as a driving force
for death, is a red herring. 

To be sure, there are people
all over the world, every day,
who kill one another;
but faith’s practice is rarely,
if ever, the culprit.

In fact, it is the confusion and blurring
of politics, ideology, and economics
with religion that becomes a flimsy excuse
for disregarding human life;

primarily, it is the attempt to sanctify
any other egotistical, violent, social construct
by overlaying the framework of religion.

Holy warriors, be they Christian,
Jewish, Muslim, or other
(and there are plenty to go around),
are RINO: Religious In Name Only.

They have stolen their parents’ car
and run off on a killing spree,
but a religious bumper sticker
does not justify their malice.

People who tell you differently
bang the drum of fear and ignorance,
hoping you’ll fall into lock-step,
as the troops parade before lesser gods.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

Raised

rozsalinePainting by Rosalind Golden Saline

Surely light years beyond
wildest hopes and
deepest imaginations,
he is raised,
not just from the tomb,
but also from the debasing
of mocking, the torture
of scourging, and the excruciating
execution of crucifixion.

Was his appearance
nearly incognito because
of the impossibility of it all,
or because transcending death
alters persona far beyond
human fathomability?
Perhaps it was both.

His face, tilted skyward,
eyes closed,
no longer in agony,
now in serenity.

His skin at one
and the same time ashen,
yet fully thrushed with life;
its shading defies
ethnocentric limitations.

His lips, resting in a fashion
best-described as tranquility.
Completely antithetical
to terrestrial powers that sought
his demise via violence,
his presence exudes a gentleness
only love can elicit;

right hand lowered and open,
both revealing a lack
of animosity and weaponry,
and clearly displaying
still-fresh wounds,
beckoning us toward
our own deepest healing;

his left hand pointing heavenward,
living water flowing from it,
new life springing up
from a parched desert floor;
light bursting from above,
revealing creation’s eternally-held dream.

Last, but also perhaps first,
the robe;
swirling transfiguration's glow
with stone-rolling angel's ensemble;
but even those two foreshadowings
are inadequate descriptions
of its hope-infused cloud.

Sit with the elements;
letting life's river wash over you,
divine wind swirl your heart,
and corpus  of unconditional love
carry you into the grace
of each tomorrow's resurrection.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

Instead

lee l mckinney 4Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

Liberation, like grace,
when advocated by humans,
always has limits.

At some point in the story
of our history and community
we all draw a line;

a mark in the sand to which
we are wholly oblivious,
until someone on the other side
points it out.

Christianity attempts to follow
the narrative of the God-Human;
the only one whose love
was unlimited; the one
who drew expansive circles,
instead.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

All We Can Do

llmckinney

Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

When the time
for doing ends,
both daily and
at the end-end,

all we can do
is slow down;

slow down and
gaze into the night sky;

gaze into the night sky
and listen to the sound
of silence;

listen to the sound
of silence and wonder;

wonder and hope;
hope and pray;

pray and let go.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

Combustion

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Hate’s the smoldering ember
beneath a veneer
of separation, self-perceived
unworthiness, and fear.

Denied or unexamined,
its uncovering combusts
all oxygen in the room,
consuming the very ones
whose otherness holds the key
to extinguishing its rage.

Once its flames are
out in the open,
none but the soaked-in-hope
can get close enough
to spread the blanket of mercy.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

Let Me

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"They will come."
the familiar story tells us.
First, for those
who are different than we,

those who are tekel –
measured by power and
control and found wanting,
to misconstrue the handwriting
Daniel read on the wall (5:27).

And when they come,
it will be time for us to act,
to stand, to speak –
to at least whisper or sing.

It will need to be more than,
"Ain't gonna study war no more..."
'cause war has already been studied –
been aced and PhD’d – by far too many.

Our song will need
to be – have to be –

"Let me introduce you
to my sister, my brother.
Let me show you how
we’re really not so other.

Let me hold your privilege/power
while you sit and have
a cup of tea with us.
Let me teach you a song
about what it’s like
to be with us.

Let me tell you a story
‘bout a kindom built on love,
mortared with grace.
Let me show you photographs
of our children, of our family,
of our homeplace.

Let me... let me..."

© 2017 Todd Jenkins