Wednesday, April 15, 2009


#12 of Naprowrimo
Easter or re-Matt:28
Early, Sunday morning, while the new day was dawning,
Came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to the tomb.
-It was the women who believed, even until the end.
-Look at those places in your heart where pieces of your hope has died
Come! See the place where the lord lay.
-Even God, descended into hell. Why should we not? Even still why should we then not be blessed to rise from our hell?
For He has risen as He said!
-Why does it need repeating? Once should have been enough! But, why then, do we seek Jesus only in our hell?
For I know ye seek Jesus who was crucified!
-Just as we look to the suffering of Jesus so that we can know how great a debt he has paid, remember. . .
He is not here!
Why do you look for the living among the dead!
He is not here!
-His glory and know that He also rose that we too would be able to rise from our own deaths.
_Why look to our failures and choose them as the definers of our reality? Our God is a risen God, therefore we too are meant to be a risen people.
_ We are so rarely visited by our joy that catching a glimpse of it, we can cast it off in fear and disbelief- our earth quakes, and in the great noise of our desire we can overlook a miracle in its infancy.
_We must lift up our eyes, our minds, our hearts, we must let go of the security of that hell that we know so that the glory of our truth can be shown to us.
We are meant to – revive ourselves and each other through mercy and faith, forgiveness and understanding, humility and love.
The Word is the life that must be brought unto a world steeped in death.
Why continue to look upon that place where death is meant to take residence?
Why are you looking at darkness, when your eyes should be turned toward the light?
All Rights Reserved © 2009

Sunday, April 12, 2009

#11 Naprowrimo

#11 of Maafa Cycle

My Man

He woke up early this morning
He woke up early this morning like he always does
And he met the morning dew
He greeted me sweetly this morning…
Like he always do. He woke up early and was on his way.
I knew that my man….was on his way.

And as the day was passing to night, I knew that his fee t would touch the porch
Like it always do.
And as the day was passing to night, I knew that my man,
Was on his way.
On his way home to me
On his way .
As sure as the moon rises as night, I knew that my man was on his way.
His feet, would meet the back porch,
Workboots would meet the floor,
His low voice would meet the air,
And My man,
Would find his way.

Dinner was ready,
As it always was.
Kitchen was clean,
As I always was.
Porch light was on, like it always was.
I knew that my man,
Had lost his way.

Moon was high,
In the night sky.
Stars were shining bright and sure.
All the night was quietly panting;
I knew that my man, had lost his way.

I’m bound to find him, and fetch him home.
I’m sure that he is somewhere to be found.
Dusk has fallen, and he not home.
I knew that my man, Had lost his way.

I took a lantern, and his best dog.
I took my shoes, and his warm coat.
I set foot to stone and was one my way.
I knew that my man, had just lost his way.

I waded through tall grass, and walked sure footed on.
I held my light proudly forward.
I looked into the blue-black night,
I knew that my man had just lost his way.

Saw the lights, bouncing on the treeline.
Saw the lights, bouncing in the trees,
I saw the lights shining brightly in the orchard.
I knew that my man had lost his way.
And my feet moved against my judgement.
My feet moved against my judgement.

I reached the treeline, and my fingers met the bark.
The scent of plum blossoms met my nose.
I heard the yells of deamon glee.
I knew that my man,
Had lost his way.
And my feet moved.
Against my judgement.

I heard the whip, CRACK
And land on flesh,
I heard the screams that would curdle blood, and in the red-orange glow
Of crucifix aflame,
I knew that my man, had lost his way.
My foot, moved
Against my judgement.

I saw the knife, slice at his manhood.
I saw the blood, urine raise down his leg,
Heard his soul writh free of his body.
So, my feet moved against my judgement.

There were men, standing round, with the faces of devils, there were
Men all around but lost to God,
There were men all around, screaming against his favor,
I knew my man, had gone way.
But, feet moved, against my judgement.

Slowly the rope, slid around his neck.
And when the horse moved,
His neck did stretch. And when the breath stopped,
His feet did kick, and when the feet stopped, his body twitched.
And when his eyes bulged, the heart did lurch.
And my feet moved.
I knew that my man, had lost his way.

There wasn’t time to cry,
There wasn’t time to think,
There wasn’t space to believe, there was a God to see.
All of the years that passed, he had come home to me.
I knew that my God, would bring my man home to me.
And my feet moved - Against my judgement.
At first,
I believed they had thought twice.
At first I believe it was water to douse the flame.

At first,
I believed they had remembered God.

At first,
I thought they had remembered shame.

Then, the smell of gasoline, and the smell of hair a flame.
Who knew that skin would melt like wax? Who knew that wouldn’t quell the pain?
But I knew.
I had found my man.

I knew. I had found my way.
I knew. I had found my home.
My feet, climbed to him.
My arms clasped tight to his body.
Laughter met my tears,
And I knew, I had found my way.

Our skin, met as one.
The flame smelled sweet.
Our hearts beat and stopped as one.
And I knew, I had found my way.

And early, that morning, carrying the blackness of night.
Our joined skin, was met by the dew.

Silence crossed the orchard.
Silence crossed the field.
Hound dog howling breaks the silence.
And the truth of love revealed.
I and my man,
Had found a way.

All Rights Reserved © 2009