I speak to the dark things of this Earth.
To Neda with the cameo face
shielded by a silk black veil, down,
shot, waiting in the streets of Iran.
To a Father and his handicapped sons.
Who tests handicaps, anyway? No one
is perfect except you, Jesus.
A woman desires the perfect husband.
Her unknown heart seeks you, O Lord.
Not the bullets in the street.
Why, why, each man asks? The dark
side is the evil one. God knows
each place. He knows the nations.
“Take up your daily cross and follow me.”
I speak to the inmate at the work camp
in the Orient, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans
everything, tortured for his words.
I speak to the fortunes of war
in mud, in tents, in black water, starving
in flies. I speak to the blood of martyrs
over the Earth…the men, the women.
Lord, nothing is impossible to you!
I speak to the big things, the darkness is big.
I speak to him who boasts, “I don’t
believe in hell. I’m carved with the mark
of the beast.” He brags.
Only days from death. Only moments from hell.
He won’t believe. He won’t perceive the light
blinding his eyes, so bright. He won’t see
the darkness within, even at the gates.
“Jesus came to destroy the works of the
I speak to the suffering in wheelchair, disease,
pain, braces. To the broken, the persecuted, the
divorced, in body, mind, heart, or soul. I speak
to your blinding light, O Lord, in every eye. See!
I speak to something really big, worldwide.
“For the whole Earth will be filled with the
knowledge of the Glory of the Lord as the waters
cover the sea.”
I speak to the mountain not by sight....
Wait! a tsunami swells on the distant skyline. See!
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