Get Up And Go

Get Up And Go

The idea of an approaching speed limit sign
For an age
Comes racing at me
In warped speed
I am on the Autobaun
Okay with a few passing me
But not okay with everyone leaving me
A sad sack in the rearview mirror of their
Adrenalin fueled lives
I want to join the human
Race
Bowed before the throne of God
WIth my gifts in tact
As I approach the finish line
Shoot the wad, spend it all

The word latched on to me like a barnacle

I carry it more as a compass than a parasite
This “Go”

Mercy attended my soul
In the pages of Acts where poet
Appears
And I was drenched in  grace
Like an oil change or a tire change
Tune up for the soul
For a road weary poet warrior
The day it leapt off the page at me
Was the day I was bone tired with the heart cry
Brittle and parched
This heart of mine
Restless for poetry
For you it may be serving soup at the soup kitchen
It was the day I wanted to trade with
Anyone
For nobler, grander, meeker, more sacred
Hand me the ladle
Bless my heart I am ready to serve

Gifts are sweeter when they come wrapped
In tissue thin paper
My old blue leather Bible hid it until
The time was right
And I was pathetically
Dazed and confused

So I am back on the poetic highway
No yellow line down the middle
Demarcation of prose from poetry
Tuned up by Holy “what?”
Just for me
Laid the questions to rest
No longer scratching my head
Like a dog his fleas
I hear the poetry in the Psalms
And see it in every hive of bee
And crest of wave
Cracked egg and broken shell
Fog and rain, whoop of crane

These things He designed
Pure poetry

I asked her “why”
And she said “why not”
Why didn’t I think of the better
Surer way to skin that cat
Rip open the package
Tear off the bow

Appears I forgot to say thank you

Don’t march this to the jury box
And make it state it’s case
It is a poem
Not theology
Nor doctrine
It is servant’s cry
And Artist God
Relating
Relationshipping
And lingering in holy love there
Mano-a-mano
Though He made me
Poetess

Lover Of My Soul
And creator of the longing
That goes to the back lit
Mac with the apple carved there
It is the one bite out
That reminds me of sin

And poetess prays
Lead me to the raging waters
That are calmed by the
Words on a page

Or lead me to the quiet streams of words
For Yours
And a heart for you

Go with me in to the wordy wilderness
And grant me Your Peace
And now I am not compelled to word search
Poet
For a number to proclaim
But You know me well and I won’t promise
I won’t

Seek and find every bit of poetry
Laying in the lines
Somewhere between Genesis and Revolution

Ladle in one hand
Pen in the other
If you seek you will find
Me, with poetry

I got up and went
Until I break down again
Ever in need of a Holy Hand
up.

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