Respecting the awesome power of words!

Posts tagged “words

Death-Defying

GJK 36Photo by Gay Jenkins Howell

The truth of Adam and Eve,
a friend told me, is
"A fig leaf is no substitute
for a therapist."

So much here to feast on;
so much here to run from;
so much here too real to face,
yet too close to reject.

Let us dare to live and breathe
in a naked now, O holy one,
not as tawdry exploitation
of bodies as objects,

but as death-defying risk
of abandonment to no less
and no more than our light-reflecting
and shadow-casting selves;

for the truth of creation's story
cannot be told
without such revealing.

Let both our poetry
and our prose
stand and fall
as blood-pumping gamble
of allowing the narrative
of who we are
to pulse out of
our own woundedness,

for it is in and from
our stories that we'll live
and die and be resurrected,
not just in the end,
but also in the breath
of their telling.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins
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Poet

IMG_9436Photo by DeEtta Harris Jenkins

To borrow a book title from one of my seminary professors, 
Dr. Walter Brueggemann, Finally Comes the Poet.

space-maker, mold-breaker, heart-shaker…

thought-drifter, shape-shifter, dream-sifter…

bell-ringer, tear-bringer, sweat-wringer…

trip-booker, fresh-looker, love-cooker…

beast-tamer, peace-framer, grace-namer…

risk-taker, earth-quaker, hope-baker…

© 2017 Todd Jenkins


Simmering

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I watched a male Eastern Bluebird
sit on our deck rail,
his eyes askance and body
shifting side to side
in search of predatory danger.

When he took to his wings,
it was as if an iridescent stream
of shimmering blue flame
traced a launching rocket.

As he faded from my sight,
I wondered if my own
leaving of a place – any place –
would ever generate
such a brilliant trail to follow.

Deciding that the answer
was, "No." I resolved, again,
to desire less the sparkling beauty
of bluebird in my eye,
and more the steadfast reflection
of poetic hope simmering
in my marrow.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

 


Stop

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I've never known a leader
who expects to be taken
seriously, but not literally;

someone who repeatedly
begs me to believe and
trust him, while the words
coming from his mouth
are hyperbolic at best and
blatant fantasies at worst.

Usually, the only people
who desire to match
this description are poets and
authors of children's books;

those who dare us
to aspire to more, by painting
word-images that pull us
toward a vision of grace.

The key ingredient
missing here, in
this time and place,
however, is hope.
It is wholly AWOL.

Without it, my imagination
is being pulled into
a vortex of fear.

This is not a story
I want to read,
much less live.

Stop the book,
I want to get out.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

Truth

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It is the only means
of resisting demagoguery.

Losing a reference point
for reality is a turbocharger
propelling us toward an abyss.

We must find venues
in which truth can be
spoken, understood, believed,
and acted upon.

Failure to do so
is not an option.

Truth-up;
don’t shut-up.

© 2017 Todd Jenkins

Crashed Server

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In the days to come,
all of the certitude and judgment
stacked helter-skelter against
those whose experience
and perception differ from our own

will come crashing down,
not on those who've been
relegated beyond the wall,

but imploding upon
the stone stackers themselves.
Why, you ask?

Because the only mortar used
in this fearful construction
comes from the fetid cesspool
of our own confirmation bias. 

All who emerge from the rubble,
and are courageous enough
to remain present,
will be invited to sit
'round the campfire, listening
to stories never heard.

Thus, the birth pangs of peace
will once again twinge.

© 2016 Todd Jenkins

Word to Word

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Those who own the words
own the world.

With ownership comes responsibility.

Responsibility demands accountability.

Accountability requires relationship.

Relationship creates community.

Community offers the possibility of hope.

Hope is the word that owns us all.

From words to hope,
what goes around, comes around.

© 2016 Todd Jenkins