Wednesday, August 28, 2013

What? Me worry?


I am practicing, and I hope you will also, not wasting another precious moment of my life worrying about anything.  I mean ANYTHING! I will be obedient to His command:  “Do not be anxious about ANYTHING, but in ALL things, by prayer and supplication, with THANKSGIVING, let your requests be made known to God. And the PEACE of God, that passes all understanding [does not make sense, is not congruent with your life-situation, cannot be explained] will keep your HEARTS and MINDS in Christ Jesus.” [Phil 4:6-7]

 

And what is my “request”? My prayer, thankfully offered to Him is:

 

Lord, I pray that I may use the abilities and life energy You have given me, joyfully submitted to Your Holy Spirit, to bring forth more of the Love, Joy and Peace of Jesus Christ into the inner felt and lived-out experience of those whom You place within the sphere of my influence.

Friday, August 23, 2013

Love Your Enemies

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor  and hate your enemy.'
But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you that you may be the children of your Father in heaven;..."  Jesus. Mt. 5:43-45

This is a most amazing and wonderful teaching from our Lord. This is one of  many of His sayings that reveal to us that He is indeed the Messiah; and that He spoke, and continues to speak, the very Truth of God, the Creator of the universe. Someone has written a popular book about John 3:16. I wish someone would write a book about Matthew 5:44.  In fact, I wish this verse, this command of Christ, could be written on billboards, newspaper headings, book and magazine covers--I wish the whole world could hear or see this message over and over again until it became a reality in the hearts of everyone in the human family. Then we would have a more heavenly life on earth. Then His will would be done on earth as in heaven, like our Lord taught us to pray [Mt.6:10].  We know that Jesus not only talked about this love:  He lived it. He prayed for the forgiveness of those who falsely accused, betrayed, denied, abandoned, tortured, mocked and crucified Him. He walked the walk. And we have His spirit in us to empower us to walk it also--better and better each day. 
Many people in the world are still living in the darkness of hatred. They are spiritually blind, as Jesus indicated in His prayer from the Cross [and elsewhere]. "They don't know what they are doing." But if we hate those who hate us, we enter into the same blindness. Hatred and revenge have never proven victorious. Hatred feeds hatred--it never overcomes it. Only love, grace, forgiveness and good will overcome hatred. Hatred is the natural, knee-jerk reaction to hatred. When we are hurt or mistreated, we want to hurt back, sulk, or withdraw our love. [And it is important to withdraw physically from abuse--to protect ourselves.] But protecting oneself from abusive or dangerous people is not the same as hating them or returning evil against them.  We are commanded not to return evil for evil, nor to be overcome by evil, but to overcome evil with good [Rm 12:17,21].
Each of us must practice this in our daily living. When someone frustrates us with bad behavior, we can express that frustration in loving or evil ways. We can confront evil with  punitive anger; or with a patient desire to help someone become better. Even if one has become so absorbed in evil that he must be eliminated from earthly existence [like some tyrants and sociopaths] we must not hate those persons; and we must maintain adequate hope for their transformation, conversion or enlightenment.
We do this from the standpoint of strength, not weakness. Christ was strong in His submission to human suffering. He made it clear to His disciples that no one was taking His life from Him; He laid it down voluntarily [Jn. 10:18].  He spoke courageous Truth to blind and arrogant persons who had the power of earthly life or death over Him. He was not intimidated by evil; but He did not return evil to those who were lost in it. To their face His countenance was hard as steel to hopefully penetrate their militant blindness.  But from the Cross He had compassion for them, realizing their dreadful lostness. So must we also be, but with the added humility of knowing that we also have been blind and perpetrators of evil--not just victims of it. We must add to Jesus' prayer "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do"  this statement: "And forgive me also, for I have not walked in perfect obedience to You. I have succumbed to the temptations of criticism, vengefulness, judgmentalism, and returning evil for evil in a myriad of ways." 
In our every day living we can practice kindness, compassion and self-restraint with those who are difficult to love in ways that are not patronizing and do not feed their pathology, but rather encourage their maturity. This is a great opportunity and challenge that is immensely satisfying.

Lord please help us to love our enemies. Amen

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Muslim Friend, Please Hear Jesus

My Muslim friends,
Please hear what Jesus says to us all:

"You have heard it said of old time, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy'. But I say to you: Love your enemies. Bless those who curse you. Do good to those who hate you. And pray for those who despitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be the children of your Father Who is in heaven."  Matthew5:44            

Is this not the answer to the strife and division that has plagued the human family since the beginning? How can this not be the voice of God? 
 Please pray and ask Jesus to reveal Himself to you as He is: the Messiah, Savior, and Redeemer of the human family.  Only Jesus can unite us in the Love of God.            

Monday, August 19, 2013

Poems


JELLYFISH

 

Let the jellyfish of your deepest sadness, deepest hurt, most profound grief---let that jellyfish swim peacefully in the vast Ocean of what you truly are. But feel yourself as the Ocean; not the jellyfish.





MY PRAYER

Mark F. Graham

I do not ask for wealth or fame

Nor length of days upon this earth

I ask not for a worthy name

Excess of happiness or mirth.

I do not need a miracle

To reinforce my waning faith

My load is not unbearable

I am sustained by what Thou saith.

I do not need a clearer vision

Than that Thou hast in Christ revealed

I need no stronger sense of mission

Nor tribulation be repealed.

If Thou wouldst hear my humble plea

I ask a miracle more grand

Than when Thy breath did part the Sea:

Please, make of me a decent man!

Mfg 1/2011



SUNDAY’S COMING


A lot of things I’d counted on came to an abrupt end

And my coffee and aloneness were becoming my best friends

It’s not that I’m not social, I can talk and laugh out loud

I just didn’t want to drag a soul beneath the darkness of my cloud

So I sank down to the bottom, the lowest I had known

And sat there in that sadness, hurt and all alone

I knew I had a Savior; I’d known it for a while

But this darkness was below what I had known of His calm smile

That smile was like a Light that had faded way above

The depth that I had sunk into below, His healing Love

Still in my pain I looked above and tried to trust that He

Could reach into this depth and touch and save the likes of me

Guilt and shame invaded, darkness pressing on the Light

But still my soul persisted, pushing upward in the fight

I heard His voice, faint at the first

Then clearer stronger bright

Driving out the doubt and fear and guilt, filling me with Light

He reminded of things I hope I never now forget

Of Calgary, Gethsemene, of promises set

In eternal stone, unchanging, sure Foundations for the soul

A low below it is, for us, impossible to go

“Oh God, Thou hast forsaken me” He cried out from the Cross

The darkness came, the ones who saw thought everything was lost.

“I’m here” He said, “I know this place.” Compassion filled the air

I was cradled in His overcoming love and power there.

He told me that the darkness always has it’s joyful end

And I smiled as He reminded me that “Sunday’s just around the bend”.

And being that Faith is substance of things not yet clear to sight

And evidence, in sad defeat, that we will win the fight

My soul, as if awakened from a dark foreboding dream

Felt Light flood in like desert being flooded by a stream

Embracing all the sadness, grief and hurt and doubtful fear

And I knew beyond uncertainty that Sunday, now, was Here!

Mark Graham 3/21












A Child


I loved child---a dear sweet child.

A boy.

Innocent. Open-hearted. Full of wide-eyed curiosity.

I felt his heart. He melted in my arms, smiling.

He looked up to me.

He trusted me.

He felt my Love.

His sweet eyes implored me. He always wanted to do something with me---a new adventure---an endless adventure.

He liked being with me. He welcomed me home, again and again.

He ran to me if he was scared. I felt his heart-rate slow as we confidently faced the “danger”.

He walked to me one time, through tall weeds, stepping high, almost falling, with his walking stick, smiling as he drew near from across the wide field.

I felt his sicknesses as my own.

I faced the monstrous fear that this child could die, knowing that a massive part of me would die also.

I could only fully face that dreadful fear in the Spirit of the One Who allowed His Beloved Son to die an awful death for me [and this child that I love],

and then [praise God!] raised Him from the grave!

Then came the “peace that passes understanding.”

I loved a child---a dear sweet child,

And in that love, within me dawned a deeper understanding of the infinite Love that is the Source of all Love.

Mark Graham, 3/21


TRUE COLORS

I came to you, not in innocence from the worldly view, but innocent in the blood of Christ—I know this to be true. But I came in what I believed to be all the colors of the rainbow of love: Enjoyment of your presence, a desire to enhance your life, a willingness to help, delight in our children---these are the colors, in my blindness, that I thought I was bringing. But shortly---so soon into our encounter-- you enlightened me. You saw some black in me. I was shocked, and at first I thought you had misunderstood me, my true motives. In my weakness I reacted more than responded. I also was looking into what you saw in me—this blackness. You labeled it for me: “favoritism” and “manipulation”. I had not seen these blacknesses in myself; and being a seeker of Truth, I want to know about the blackness in me, because even though God has already forgiven me for it, He fully expects me to know it, confess it and turn away from it in this joyful journey. But as I was facing it and allowing the truth of it to come into focus, I saw you pulling away from me. That pulling away was like a fire that had started in my house, and knew I must put it out so I stomped at the fire, trying to drive away the misunderstanding; but to my horror I only scattered the fiery embers, and more fires ignited, and as I tried desperately to put them out I saw you pulling farther and farther away, and reaching toward you seemed to cause the fire to burn more intensely and you kept backing away from this blackness that you saw in me. Still my counter-productive efforts increased; I tried other ways to put out the fire. The desperation was fueled by the fact that, in your retreat, you were taking away someone I loved more deeply than I can tell—someone who I truly believed needed me in his life. Strangely, this love seemed to be a part of the blackness you saw in me [but how could that be?!] At any rate, I finally saw that this fire was beyond my control, and like other wildfires, it must be left to burn itself out. This was so difficult because I saw, burning in that fire, much unnecessary suffering, and I don’t know what will be left when it is extinguished.

I realize that I must let this fire refine me, for I am in the midst of it. I must allow the wood, stubble and hay to burn like parts of me being burned away, parts that are not free and safe from inflicting or being destroyed by harm. Because of this I know, like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego I will emerge without even the smell of smoke on me, and with those rainbow colors shining brighter than ever.

Mark Graham 2/21




MY “SON”


You stand, firm, stern and cold, at the gate, holding back the flood waters of Love from the community of those who love your child; the community that now has the dark cloud of his absence hanging over it. To you the waters are toxic, threatening. To him they are life-nourishing, healing, desired. He stands, weak behind your hawk-like gaze, with waning hope of reconnecting—the opening of the gate. He makes his bids---”the Pumpkin Patch?”, “Santa at your house?” They fall on deaf ears, bouncing off a cold heart. The little cracks in the gate that you allow only remind him and us of what is now out of reach, unnecessarily. A little water flows through, but not too much---you make sure of that. Those waters are toxic. “If he drinks too much it will ruin what I’m doing over here.” You hold the precious bonds he had with his community—his people—his family---like a wad of snakes in your tight fist, choking, choking choking them. You want them to die, so that you will not be bothered anymore with them. They are his memories, his roots, the only life-blood that he knew until whisked away amid his screams—that angered you! We knock, scratch and grovel at the gate; send messages over the wall. They are blocked, intercepted ignored or deflected. “Not today. But soon.” “Hang in there. I’ve got a plan.” “A little longer.” “They’re too tired this evening.” We’ve got our plans. Gonna do our OWN thing.” “Nope, not today. He hasn’t earned it. Bad behavior. Can’t reward him with your love.” “We’ve got a lot of errands today. Love y’all.” Those last words sound hollow, like a taunt. We can feel the coldness of the atmosphere in which he now lives: “Halloween is canceled,” he says. “He made himself cough so now he has a sore throat,” you say. He hears “Oh, it’s my fault that I am sick.” You are as reckless with your words as you are with his life.

There is another gate, behind the one you have built—the one behind which our love is accumulating. This other gate has something accumulating behind it also: some bad Karma. It will flood not only yours, but your precious son’s life also. Even now, the opening of the one could neutralize the other. But there seems to be no sign of that happening. The heart is too cold now. Satan sits on the sidelines grinning. I can’t help but think that, on some level, so are you.


11/1/20

LITTLE BOYS

I've known little boys. Little boys are transformative.
They transform oil-slicked water into rainbows.
They transform roadside ditches into rivers with minnows, tadpoles, frogs, and occasional wonderful snakes!
They transform clouds into elephants, horses, dragons, and butterflies.
They transform the neighbor's yard into a battlefield where you can be chased down and tickled or attacked by a bear.
They transform weeping willow branches into a jungle.
They transform kitchens into balloon bouncing marathon arenas.
They transform walks into adventures.
They transform sofas into wrestling rinks or mountain cliffs,
And driveways into race tracks.
They transform quiet, dark houses into bright rousing circuses.
I've known little boys.
Little boys have transformed my world.
                                                Mark Graham 4/20/20

 THE SCOWL

“You dare not move outside the domain of my scowl!
I use my scowl to threaten the withdrawal of my affection or the meager grace I extend to you,
inferior being that you are
And keep you in my domain of control.
If you move outside that domain I may change my style; soften up, to woo you back in---make you believe that it’s safe in here.
Once you are safely back in, I will punish you for trying to sneak out of my domain
so you will never want to do that again.
If you say something humorous I will not laugh. That lets you off the hook.
You may think I am pleased with you.
I must not let that happen. You will stop dancing to the tune of my scowl. I will lose control.
I want you to work hard, trying to appease the scowl, turn it to a smile.
But I can never let that happen because you will stop working hard, which is what I need.
If you are not working hard for me, supplying my need, who will be?
I will be left alone, a dreadful thing I cannot bear.
If you ever succeed in breaking free, I will unleash my hatred against you, and you know it. Better for you to be a tolerated slave than a hated freeman.”

“But I will not fear your hatred. And I will not hate you. I will ignore the boundaries of your scowl;
I will not live in its domain. It is too restrictive for my soul, which is now dancing in the celestial music of Love---even for you. I am sorry that you have that dreadful need, fueled by a dreadful fear of aloneness—a fear that can only be relieved by the God Who has set me free from the fear of your scowl. Free to be with you or not, and be OK with the Deep Okness. Free to be in or out of your graces, because I am now in Divine Grace in an infinite atmosphere of Love for my freedom; and for yours, if you could only hear the music.”
Mark Graham, 12/5/19


HEAVEN

I once scorned ev’ry fearful thought of death,

When it was but the end of pulse and breath,

But now my eyes have seen that past the pain

There is a world that’s waiting to be claimed.

Earthmaker, Holy, let me now depart,

For living’s such a temporary art.

And dying is but getting dressed for God,

Our graves are merely doorways cut in sod.

Calvin Miller, The Divine Symphony (Minneapolis: Bethany, 2000), 139.


Kindness


Before you know what kindness really is

you must lose things,

feel the future dissolve in a moment

like salt in a weakened broth.

What you held in your hand,

what you counted and carefully saved,

all this must go so you know

how desolate the landscape can be

between the regions of kindness.

How you ride and ride

thinking the bus will never stop,

the passengers eating maize and chicken

will stare out the window forever.


Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,

you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho 

lies dead by the side of the road.

You must see how this could be you,

how he too was someone

who journeyed through the night with plans 

and the simple breath that kept him alive.


Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, 

you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.  

You must wake up with sorrow.

You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows

and you see the size of the cloth. 


Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,

only kindness that ties your shoes

and sends you out into the day to mail letters and  purchase bread,

only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say

it is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you every where

like a shadow or a friend.

 Naomi Shibab Nye





IT IS GOOD
I heard the trees singing in the wind
   singing, singing
And I listened deeply, deeply to the song
   And the song spoke deeply into my heart
"It is good, it is good that we are trees in the wind."
And I heard the loud call of the pileated woodpecker
   And his song was the same, "It is good, it is good that I am here.
And it is good, it is good that you are here.
   And it is good, it is so good that this earth is."

At-One-Ment

I feel his warm body lying against the side of my belly
He is comforted by my breathing and shifts of positions
He wants to know, in his sleepy unconscious, that I am there
And I am there. I am here.
I strain to feel his little two year old life pulsing against my side
His breath, heart, and warmth calm my soul
He cries out softly, “Nooo!” dreaming perhaps about having to take the foul tasting medicine
we've been forcing upon him to treat pneumonia symptoms
and I am reminded that life involves suffering: from birth to death
I don't know what lies ahead for this little being
I don't know who he will become or what joys and sorrows will flow through his heart
I feel myself bracing up against his future suffering, as if I could somehow keep it pushed away
I think of Christ, bracing up too
“Father, all things are possible with You. Please let this dreadful cup pass from me.”
And I feel His surrender: “Nevertheless, not My will but Yours be done.”
In that glorious, powerful, courageous surrender
I find peace
Whatever lies ahead, just now, this innocent, awakening little life,
pressed against me so as to become one with me
Is perfect
And I allow that feeling of perfection to permeate the universe
The universe that is under the sovereign domain of that loving Father
Who, in His perfection, allowed the Cross.

Mark Graham 1/19/17


QUITE A MOMENT

Startled by my motorcycle, rolling slowly through wide pools of four inch deep “High Water” (as the sign had warned) hundreds of tightly aligned purple martins peeled off the power line above me to join hundreds more circling, circling in the wide expanse of blue windy sky on this September day, the coolest after two months of summer heat, while, to my right, waves on the rain swollen Tchefuncta glistened in the sun as it poured its way the short distance remaining to Lake Pontchartrain. It was, I would say, quite a moment.
Mark Graham


THE GEESE SEEM LONELY NOW

The geese seem lonely now.
Now that you are not on my hip or halfway up the fence, staring at them with wide-eyed wonder, as they come, flock after flock, honking, then loudly alighting, skiing across the pond.
That was before you could speak words, though you communicated very well.
Your little curl bounced down the back of your neck as you bobbed your head to show me how the frog's throat went in and out. It was while the innocence of heaven still trailed off you like fairy dust, and your many faces, all beautiful, delighted my soul. You made me dance with you, and fly you across the sky, and sing nonsensical songs while we felt the breeze, cruising in the windshield-less golf cart, stopping for dragonflies and butterflies and marvelous turtles. And we, like Alice did the Jabberwocky, slayed some vicious moccasins with our Vorpal Sword sticks and rocks, while Axel, having been bitten four times, kept diligent watch. You made me throw back my head and laugh out loud, and thrust up my fisted arm in victory when you walked the narrow plank across the ditch of water or climbed up into the chair without a hand of help. How proud we both were!
These glorious times were all the more precious--oh so precious!--because I could see the storm clouds of this fallen world gathering outside our little sanctuary of innocence. I knew the fairy dust would fade away, as it does with us all. And I wept when you could not see for what you thankfully did not yet see; and wished with all my soul, knowing the impossibility of it, that I could find a way to keep that world from closing in upon you and polluting this innocence.
I will not likely live long enough on this earth to see if you will find that one true cleansing Fountain, the Blood of Jesus the Christ, to purify your soul, create a clean, new heart, and restore your bright angel wings so you can fly, now like an eagle, on the wings of Grace into the eternity that you never really left. New eyes, new heart, new song! That is my hope. And that alone sustains me as I see the darkness pressing in against our precious little island.
The geese take flight now, loudly, fading into the bright-colored sunset.

Mark Graham 8/30/16




THE PHOENIX AND THE OWL

The magnificent Phoenix bird, having lived a thousand years and now nearing the time of its transformation, having flown in the clear and pure atmosphere of the mountain heights, feeding on ambrosia and the finest grains of earth,
saw, with his clear jeweled eyes, far below, perched upon a stump, an owl with a decaying rat clutched in its talons.
Having compassion for the ignoble bird, the Phoenix swooped downward to invite him into the nobility of his birthright, the mountain heights and spring-fed streams.
The owl more tightly grasped his precious, putrid rat and screeched with threatening scowl.
The Phoenix sadly curved his flight upward, upward
Until even the owl's forest was a green patch on the distant low horizon.

Mark Graham 8/30/16

COMING HOME

We travel this world with an ache in our heart
Longing for something
Something
But what?
From the time we are born we push back horizons
The familiar bores us
The new allures us
But we start getting tired
And we find the old in every new
Horizons start to look alike
So we close our eyes and look inside
And find a vast, unexplored infinite world
Dazzling and teeming with old and new beauties and adventures.

Mark Graham 8/27/16


EXPANSION

I like stopping by in places of beauty
Where little rivulets or great torrents of water are flowing
Or a tiny purple flower shines out of the green grass canvas
Or a bright green and blue damselfly alights on a mufti-colored coleus leaf

And not only sights but sounds of beauty set me free:
An early morning or late evening wood thrush,
The crescendo and decrescendo of cicadas,
A bold wren duet.

That there are such things as beauty and freedom
Proclaims like a trumpeted announcement of royalty
That God is.
And the God of all this beauty must be Love
And want us to be free.
And if God is Love, all the suffering that we do not understand
And even death
Must be allowed for loving reasons.
And when I invest my soul in that credible Faith
I find a new freedom that embraces and expands beyond all this beauty and suffering
Into the vast reaches of the Universe.

Mark Graham
6/13/16
THESE FLEETING MOMENTS
David Bowie died. He was sixty-nine; two years older than me.
I want to capture one or two of these fleeting moments and be so totally immersed in them that they are permanently emblazoned in my memory, so that I can savor the joy and goodness of them forever.    1/16

ON MY STREET
On my street there are no terrorists, rapists, thieves or even mean people that I know of.
On my street people smile and try to help each other.
There is kindness and good will in my neighborhood.
I know that many people live in violence and fear; and my heart goes out to them. I try to help them in the meager ways that I can--prayer and giving.
But just now, I want to celebrate, with my whole heart, my neighborhood. And pray that the kindness of my community could expand into the whole world.
1/16


Brad 2014

 Sometimes my heart feels like a wet rag being twisted and wrung out with the pain of him not being here; With the longing for him to come and fill up that gigantic vacuum he left in my soul—in our souls.
The only thing I can do to ease the pain, bring some light into the darkness, unclinch my heart is to go into the Spirit, the Holy Spirit of Christ Himself, and His great Love, the same Love that was and somehow still is in Bradley; the Love from which all the various loves come. Then I hear His voice reminding me about the “many rooms” and comforting me with “fear not, don’t be troubled”* and I begin to know again, in an ever deepening way, about that Light that is the Light of man, the Core and center of the universe from which all has come, to which all will return, in which all currently resides; the God Who is Love, Who made Brad’s and everyone’s particular, unique personality possible; the One Who brought forth all that is and holds it together, on this side and the other side of death.
I have to and I want to let my heart be filled up and filled up and filled up to overflowing with that Love from which came forth Bradley’s laughter, compassion, humor, loyalty, and all the particular instruments in the orchestra of his personality that played such a beautiful series of compositions for us for a time on this earth. And I want to remember too that not all the songs were happy ones for him or for us in this world; that he had his share of that tribulation that Jesus said we would all have; like the tribulation of losing someone you love.  But how amazing, how amazing, how over-the-top amazing that He said, speaking with the voice of eternal Truth that transcends all truth, “nevertheless, be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”  There, you see, right there, is when I hear Brad laughing! And when I see him, like I did in the dream that God gave me, I see him winking at me, with Jesus standing behind him, a hand on his shoulder, smiling, and behind them the Light of God, the conscious Core and Fabric of this universe, shining brighter than the sun, enveloping me and all of us in Eternity and in Love.

*From John 14.


Faith-Pain


Ain't it queer? this life we live

                So easy to get hung

In time, place, attitude that's less

                Than aimed at when we're young.


We set high goals then make the run,

                And with some luck we make it.

The goal attained becomes a bond

                And with some luck we break it.


Meanwhile, wanting, needing love,

                We spend our days romancing;

Always learning how to dance,

                But never really dancing.


Now I believe, I still believe

                There's method in this madness,

And life's off-key and sour notes

                Compose a song of gladness,


But truth demands that I confess

                There're times my heart's so low

Verse can't convey, but that's OK,

                I'd rather you not know.


Now God is great and high and good,

                Much more than I can say;

And He's in me and I'm in Him:

                He's set it up that way.


But truth is truth, and feelings are

                A part of what I am;

And sometimes I feel trapped by life

                Like water by a dam.


I know that I have everything

                And life's exactly right,

Yet still I yearn and burn inside

                To spread my wings in flight.


A time will come, I'll realize

                That, even now, I'm flying;

But just for now can you forgive

                A hurting man for crying?


A time will come, I'll realize

                That, even now, I'm flying.

                                                                      

        Mark F. Graham


Planting Time Is Always Here

Come Spring, Lord, and be Thy will,

            Give me strength to garden, Lord;

Give me strength to till.


Give me strength to get my hands and feet

            In Your good earth;

To plant the seeds and watch them grow

            Like me in my new birth.


I am planting, Lord!  And I'm watching them grow!

            Oh thank You, Lord above!

For the seeds that I'm planting, You planted in me;

            They're the fruit-bearing seeds of Love.


                            Travis Graham





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ALTAR SMOKE

                                        Rosalie Grayer



Somewhere inside of me there must have always been

A tenderness

For the little lived-with things

A man crowds upon his worn fistful of earth.

Somewhere inside of me

There must have always been

A love

Made to fill the square aggressiveness of new-cut hedges,

And feed the pursed green mouths of baby leaves;

A love made to understand

The way grass cuddles up to porch steps leaned upon by time,

And why dandelions nudge the stones along the walk;

A love for garden hose curled sleeping in the noon hush,

Coolness trickling lazily from its open mouth,

For shingles starched and saucy in white paint,

And an old rake rusty with dreams of tangled grass and butterflies.

A love

For candle flames, liked pointed blossoms on their ghostly stems,

And frost-forests breathing wonder on the parlor windows.

Somewhere inside of me

There must have always been

An altar of hewn stones

Upon which my love casts these -

Burnt offerings -

To make a sweet savor

Unto my soul.


Give me strength, my God

To scatter my fires and tumble altar stones in confusion;

Give me strength to raise my eyes,

So that hard and sharp across my heart

Like shadows cut on mountain rock,

Will fall the agony of sunset --

So that I can see

The laughter of clouds spun into the blue web of infinity,

So that my soul can reach out

And melt in the sweep of forever

Above all these.





A Poison Tree


I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.


And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears:

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.


And it grew both day and night,

And it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine,

And he knew that it was mine.


And into my garden stole

When the night had veiled the pole;

In the morning glad I see,

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.


               Wm. Blake

               Songs of Experience


I clinched the gladness in my heart

'Til God His wisdom did impart;

To my horror then I see

I am my foe, my foe is me!


               Mark Graham

               (Last verse only)















REFRESHMENT



Oh Lord!

You have refreshed my soul again;

            As always, in the nick of time.


I am thankful Lord.

            To You.

I am thankful to You.


And I am thankful to and for the people, (Your servants)

            Whom You gave to and for me;


For fulfilling their seeking hearts with the comfort that,

through them, You imparted to me.


            This is rather wonderful, Lord:

The way you work for people - through people.


Help me to remember;

            Help me to not forsake the gathering together

With Your children, in Your SOUL-NURTURING Spirit.


                                       Mark F. Graham

                                       8/94





















COMPLACENCY DEFEATED



How easy, while not driven by those ubiquitous motivators pain or fear,

            To sink into the sucking, oozing slime

(Disguised as cushy comfort)

            Of lethargic apathy.

Ease and entertainment; eating, yawning, watching T.V.;

            Showing up late or barely on time for appointments,

Doing as little as possible to get by

            (And resenting that!)

Addicted to comfort, getting never enough

            Always interrupted by pernicious duty!

COMPLACENT.                   STAGNANT.

                 DEATH-WARD DRIFTING.

                                    UNAWARE.


Love stirs the stagnant waters to new life;

            Infuses meaninglessness with meaning;

Becomes the magnet pull for the directionless compass.

"Awake!" it beckons.  "Arise!"

            "There are needs to meet."

"Awake!  Look to your eyes

            See how you see!"

"A day is coming," it reminds me

            "When you would give all you've earned in this life

For just one of these days that, now, you're yawning away."


            "A day to look into your son's face

                        And really see him - for a moment."


            "A day to savor food

                        Without eating too quickly or too much."


            "A day to be centered in Christ,

                        Going about doing good."


            "A day to rest in the clean, firm diligence

                        Of hard work."


            "Awake!  Arise!

                        Erase any future regret you might have

            About this day."


                 Live this day!    Love this day!                                                                                                                                                        Mark Graham  8/94 

INTERLUDE


I stepped out of it for a few minutes, miraculously.

           

            Down a little trail that invited me into the woods


From the parking lot - I stepped into the living world;


            Wild, chaotic, serene, lush, intricately interwoven,


Mysteriously organized organic world.


From there I peered back into the techno-world - hard, steel, shiny,


            Insulated, rather barren - and beheld a female techno-


Creature; obesely waddling, perched precariously on nonsensical


            Heels, burdened incredibly with technecessities:


Umbrella, purse, carrying case with necessary papers...


            What a chore to simply get from car to building!


The nylon stockings on her legs would make it an impossible


            Discomfort to step, as me, into this living world.


No, her day (and mine) would be spent in smoother, smaller


            Environs than this vast grey, misty air and tangled beauty,


Full of wonder and surprise around each turn; in which


            I used to wander, wild and free, lost from time and


Schedule, and more enlightened than now.


A cardinal alights above my shoulder. 


            Without alarm-clock, deodorant, toothpaste, electric


Appliance, plan, goal, or transportation; with only himSELF,


And with no plans of accumulating or accomplishing anything


            He awakened this morning - singing.


And I know that I am more free than he.   Mark Graham 4/95

   

 ONE-SIDED OPENNESS


"With half a laugh of hearty zest

I strip me off my coat and vest.

Then heeding not the frigid air

I fling away my underwear.

So having nothing else to doff,

I rip my epidermis off.

More secrets to acquaint you with

I pare my bones to strips of pith.

And when the expose' is done

I hang, a cobweb skeleton,

While you sit there aloof, remote,

And will not shed your overcoat."


Tom Prideaux, unpublished poem.































GRIEF

Mark Graham, 11/7/95


It's a wailing day

An inner mournful, down home sad joy-failing day.

The sky and my heart are crying

grieving all the foolishness and senseless,

self-inflicted suffering in the world;

All the Lostness    Blindness     Deluded self-aggrandizing

Banner-flying entitlement    Self-righteousness

"Rights" consciousness    Pharisaic condescending religiosity

Gun-toting vengeance-corrupted vigilantism.


And deeper, and more to the point


My own, and all the world's

Weakness and pathetic laziness

That rules and lulls us

Senseless, dawdling lemmings to the sea.



Let our grief, oh God, be channeled outward

through our guts and hearts into disciplined, determined, powerful

and pinpoint focused deeds of love and wisdom,


         To push back the darkness for our children.


                                                                                    (Yatshik Rabin [1922-11/95])




















BLINDNESS


I tremble deep inside of me

            When, thru' Your spirit eyes, I see

Dark demons, full of foul deception

            In others, blind to their perception.

I know that I'm no greater than they

            And so with all my soul I pray:


Great God of heaven, earth and sky,

            Of hurricane and butterfly,

Upon my knees I humbly ask

            That You would strip away my mask

Deliver me, O God above,

From all inside that blocks Your Love.

My soul implores, cries out, exalts:

Preserve me from my hidden faults!



                                    Mark F. Graham

                                                11/30/95
























ESCAPE



Escape!  Escape!  Escape!

Escape the clutches of the parasitical world that sucks and drains.  Escape the evil-devised and cunning systems that enslave human hearts, minds and spirits in the service of the money-god,
green-eyed and slimy behind his benevolent business-suited mask.


Escape the blind leaders of the blind in their frenzied, competitive rush to destruction.  Come out from them.  Come away.  Sit down and be still and know that He is God.


Escape!  Escape!  Escape!

Escape the treadmill existence, treading out the grain for the money-god and his worshippers who have made violent, subtle inroads to, not only the bank accounts and pocketbooks, but to the very souls of those who do not even recognize that life is being drained away.


Escape, Escape, Escape.

Escape the clutches of the power-hungry intelligent goons, bewitched in their belief that there will at last be enough power to produce peace.  Have compassion for them.  Pray for them.  Confront them with the truth of their dreadful destination.

But for God's sake, do not get caught up in their slimy, sticky, tenacious, pernicious vortex.


Escape with your God-given life.  Your life is yours.  It has been given to you.  Not to the corporation, government, or school - or even the Church.  Remember that the world is for man; not man for the world.  Do not become fodder for the machines or systems of the world.  Your life is yours!


But beware, o seeker!  Beware!  Your life is not yours to keep.  It is yours to give!  But only to God, and to nothing less than God!


Do not give your life in service to the money-god.  Refuse him.  Rebuke him to hell where he belongs.  Stand free, with clear eyes and clean heart.  Free your mind from the constant whirring and ticking and roaring rumble of survival-mode moneymaking; so that you can see and feel and smell and taste.  Get off the treadmill.  Go for a slow walk.  Look at flowers.  Listen to birds and watch the trees sway in quiet, steady praise to God for your newfound liberation.  Ignore the threatening screams of the money-god victim-servants as they try to invoke fear - the fuel that drives the world system.


Escape, Escape, Escape.

Escape death and run into the open arms of Life, joyful and loving.  Escape into free and cheerful service of God and mankind.


But don't expect the money-god to take it very well.




BE YE TRANSFORMED



O Lord please deliver us from complacency.

            You have not delivered us into the desert - but into the Land flowing with milk and honey -

            But there are some GIANTS in there!


It is so easy to get lost in the desert;

            A stone's throw from the Promised Land.

We complain, in our sleep.  Awaken us, O God!

            To Glorious Reality,

We are, even now

            In the Promised Land!


Help us to slay the giants of doubting faithlessness,

            worldly ambitions:  empty, vain, going nowhere.

Money, Flesh, Fun, Excitement, Fame, Entertainment, Business,

            Rat-race living, Monkey-Mind,

Wishing we could be somewhere we're not -

            All incredibly useless and vain, until and unless,

Filled with Your Holy Spirit -
                Submitted to You, they become Holy manifestations of the
 Promised Land.


We enter in through Transformation.




                                                                                    Mark F. Graham, 4/96






AHEAD


There's a sadness when the moon is full


             'cause it's moving toward the wane.


There's a gladness when the moon is new


             'cause it's toward the full again.

                                                           

                                                            Mark F. Graham, '98

JOURNEY OF THE MAGI


"A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of year

For a journey, and such a long journey:  The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter."

And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,

Lying down in the melted snow.

There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, And the silken girls bringing sherbet.

Then the camel men cursing and grumbling

And running away and wanting their liquor and women,

And night fires going out, and the lack of shelters,

And the cities hostile, and towns unfriendly

And the villages dirty and charging high prices:

A hard time we had of it.

At the end we preferred to travel all night,

Sleeping in snatches,

With the voices singing in our ears, saying

This was all folly. 


Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,

Wet, below the snow-line, smelling of vegetation;

With a running stream and water-mill beating the darkness,

And three trees on the low sky,

And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow,

Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,

Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,

And feet kicking the empty wineskins.

But there was no information, and so we continued

And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon

Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.


All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down

This set down

This: were we led all that way for

Birth or Death?  There was a birth, certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt.  I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,

But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

With an alien people clutching their gods.

I should be glad of another death.


                                                            T.S. Eliot (1888-1965

RELENTLESS PURSUIT OF JOY IN PRESENT



I fear I might have been taking it too much for granted -


                        Life that is.


But not any more!


            I pinch myself hard and shake myself wide-awake


'Cause there's Something awesome about - always about -


            And I'm on It's trail like a hound dog that lives for the hunt


And stays with it and stays with it through swamps and briars


            And blistering sun and long dry spells


When no one cares


                        And dark nights and threatening storms;


And pushes on and on, panting and gasping for a breath of


                                                             Holy Air


And stays and stays - 'til he bays - and knows - - - - -


                        'Til I know


That I am exactly in the very center of where I am supposed to be


            Exactly in the center of


                                                His Holy Will


                                                            At my son's baseball game.



                                                                                                7/19/97

                                                                                    Franklinton, LA ball field




JOY REDISCOVERED


I sit in the quiet      by the pond.


            The softly moving air and the sun seem to compete


                                                in comforting me.


The sun,

                        From above

                                                            And below (reflected by water);


So that, even through closed eyelids


                                    I see the moving light-ripples;



And the sun is warm   and   good;


                                    'til almost hot


                                                                                    Then


Breeze refreshes skin and Spirit,


                        The leaves its vocal chords to whisper


                                                Love from God,

                                    the Breather Of the breath,

                                       Who is embracing me,

                                                And reminding me

                        Of what I have too long forgotten,

                                         but now remember


                                                    with Joy!




                                                                                                Mark Graham, 1997








HORSEBACK


Through enchanted forest full of unseen but gladly heard warblers we loped astride horses - John David, Nick and I.  All talked out, in silence (except for insect, breeze and bird songs) we slowed to the pace of non-manmade things and drank deeply from the wellspring of wildflower and honey-suckle smell serenity; as forest and field and stream with bright-white sandy banks passed ever-so-slowly past.

            And there was the big moccasin, slow to be startled into the water by the old wooden bridge.

            And, oh! there was the young deer, a doe I believe, out, alone, wary, in the middle of the broad white sandbar - ears up, eyes wide, nostrils asniff - 'til, tail flashing, convinced of trouble, she fled into the woods.

4/8/97(horseback ride in Picayune)






            PRAISE HIM!


PRAISE HIM FOR YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS

PRAISE HIM FOR THE JOY THAT NEVER ENDS

FOR THE CHANGING OF THE SEASONS, LIFT YOUR VOICE

FOR THE COLORS OF THE SETTING SUN, REJOICE.


PRAISE HIM FOR THE WARMTH OF AUTUMN SUN

PRAISE HIM THAT, IN HIM, WE ALL ARE ONE

FOR BABIES AT THEIR MOTHER'S BREAST GIVE PRAISE

FOR INNOCENCE OF CHILDREN AS THEY PLAY.


THANK HIM AT EACH MEAL FOR TASTE OF FOOD

FOR COMFORT, WARMTH AND GLOW OF BURNING WOOD

FOR NIGHTTIME REST OF BODY, SOUL AND MIND

FOR MORNING LIGHT AND SINGING BIRDS SUBLIME


FOR THE SMELL OF VERDANT PASTURE LAND SO SWEET

FOR SMILING FACES IN THE CITY STREET

FOR PEOPLE HELPING PEOPLE EVERYWHERE

PRAISE HIM FOR HIS TENDER LOVE AND CARE


FOR THE WAY HE'S MOVED UPON MEN'S SOULS TO WRITE

WORDS OF GREAT TRUTH IN POETRY AND SONG

AND FOR THE FACT THAT NOW WE TOO UNITE

OUR VOICES IN ONE VOICE AND SING ALONG


PRAISE HIM FOR HIS PATIENCE, LONG AND KIND

AS WE WANDERED IN THE DARKNESS OF OUR SIN

FOR GUARDING US, THOUGH WE WERE HARD AND BLIND

FOR OPENING HEAVEN'S DOORS TO LET US IN


PRAISE HIM FOR THE BEAUTY OF THE EARTH

FOR ALL THINGS FAIR AND LOVELY, KIND AND GOOD

PRAISE HIM FOR THE JOY OF OUR NEWBIRTH

THROUGH CHRIST INTO THE FAMILY OF GOD.


FOR LIFE THAT'S FREE FROM GUILT AND FEAR AND SHAME -

A PRICELESS, COSTLY GIFT SO FREELY GIVEN -

FOR POWER OVER EVIL IN YOUR NAME

WE PRAISE YOU, LORD OF EARTH, AND LORD OF HEAVEN.


                       


                                                MARK F. GRAHAM, 12/98


                                   








INTERGENERATIONAL WOUNDEDNESS



Daddy overlooks or Daddy ignores because Daddy is so busy, and so preoccupied, and he often misunderstands, so there is a hole in my heart the size of his missing love, but I know his love is there somewhere, so I hang around trying to get it to put it in its place; but every time I do, it evaporates, disintegrates or bounces away; or I stop just short of getting it, afraid that it won't really be there, like it hasn't been so many times before.


Meanwhile, the hole is growing heavier and heavier and heavier, like a lead weight multiplying in density as hope fades - and the pain becomes just my way of being-in-the-world (what's new?) - and I've forgotten now what it was that I was looking for.


THEN:

Down the road awhile:

Another "He" walks into the room and, WOW!, something stirs and quakes deep in my inner core - something about his aloof and busy air; the way that he is preoccupied with other things - and I know that he's the one for me.


The pursuit begins...again...


And does not end until I realize (if I ever do) that what quaked and stirred within me was renewed vain hope for Daddy's love - forever unattainable from him, but not from Him.


                                                                        Mark F. Graham, approx. 1987






Saint Augustine! Well hast thou said

            That of our vices we can frame

A ladder, if we will but tread

            Beneath our feet each deed of shame.


                                                H. W. Longfellow,

 The Ladder of St. Augustine







IMMERSION

I sit suspended in the airful of earth-sounds:


            Redbird, wren, cicada, tree frog, katydid, chickadee.


I am suspended in Life.


            My imaginary boundaries temporarily gone -


                                    I am in all, all in me.


The universe of God's great dream is me


            And I am one with Him and all.



Embracing inner duality – Letting go of the pull away from where I am.


            I need not fear.  God is here.


All is well,


Though parts of me have not yet got the message.


            I embrace those parts of me too, and re-attain,


Continually re-attain


PEACE.


Peace comes and goes,


 Ebbs and flows.


But underneath is the greater, oceanic peace that knows


            It will always come again, and mysteriously, therefore


Is always here.


These life-sounds are so beautiful, so right for my soul


            How could God not love me!?


                        And if God loves me - there is

                                             JOY!                                          Mark F. Graham, 5/99                                                   

THE DOOR


I know a place of joy sublime

            Beyond and in the world of time

A place of rest and peace and life

            Beyond the din of noise and strife

In which men's aspirations fade

            Like summer heat in autumn shade

            Like ashes on the floor.


Of this place I now would tell

            Though words can never serve it well

It's essence and reality

            Beyond men's worlds will ever be

And yet, true to its mystery

            Is also in the worlds we see.

Within, beyond, always at hand

            Yet many die and never stand

            Upon its lustrous shore.


The doorway is so plain and common

            No inspiration it may summon.

Some walk through as after-thought,

            Tired and worn and having sought

In vain it’s treasures in other places

            Full of promise and shining faces;

            Their hope was almost gone.


Others run in fast and fearful

            Short of breath and faces tearful.

Death has stared them in the face;

            They learned from him to seek this place.

Or, otherwise, on distant shore

            That lies beyond death's looming door

A vision sweet and luminescent

            Opened eyes to ever-present

Life beyond; a gift was given -

            Ever present hell and heaven.

            Their face, like Moses', shone.


Whatever pathway they had taken-

            Faithful, doubtful, luck, mistaken-

Walking through the door they find

            The life that they had left behind

Or never found in any realm

            Of under-, 'round- or overwhelm.

                                                                                   

Through this plain door, so often passed,

            Blossoms bloom, and life at last

Is lived and love is loved

            And all that we'd been dreaming of

Is manifested, plain and clear,

            The spirit soars, freer, freer

Freer still and onward goes

            To universal realms and grows

Beyond all boundaries of pain

            And gloom and doubt and dread and rain

And onward flies a thousand more

            Light years beyond our farthest shore

Of old confines and thoughts and wishes

            Complications and dirty dishes

Homework, Monday morning blues

            Insurance, taxes, bills and dues

Retirement plans that don't go well

            And fear of sickness, death and hell--

All fade in ever-growing glow

            Of something you will never know


            If you don't find the door.


                                    John 10:9


                                                                                    Mark F. Graham, 9/2/99


Tell your children "Wear it well,

            This yoke of Christ that saves from hell."

And tell them "Never fear, for He

            will see you through eternity."

                                                            mfg 9/2/99














FATAL COMFORT



He who follows the easy way

            Will find himself soon trapped in comfort's cruel cage

Where flowers don't smell, and there's no fear of hell

            And love's just a word on a page.


But he who is willing to suffer and strive;

            To gird up his loins and roll up his sleeves,

Will never forget that he is alive

            And will never drift long on life's meaningless seas.


                                                                        MARK F. GRAHAM, 4/12/92


 

MY BACK YARD


I love the twisted tangleness

            The no-sharp-angledness

The chip - chip - chirriedness

            The calm unhurriedness

And the flip-tailed scurriedness


I love the soft green lushness

            The soul-healing hushedness

The random fallingness

            The towering tallingness

And the wee world smallingness

            Of my back yard.


                                    Mark Graham, 1999













ASLEEP/AWAKE


I forgot that I am free -

            How long forgotten?

            I fear to see.


I walk in freedom, day and night

            I steer my bus to left or right

I am no victim, nor am I slave

            (Except when lost in Plato’s cave

Mistaking light of fire for day

            And shadows for reality.)


But I awaken! Thank God awaken!

            Awareness fresh, renewed, re-shapen!


Now scaleless eyes see paradise

            In wind-swept earth and children's eyes.


God save me from dull sleep of day.

            In loving gratitude I pray

That I might always and forever stay

            Aware, in awe, alive, awake;

'Til through the veil that separates

            This world from next I am born through,

To spend eternity with you

            Whose wakefulness, so clear and bright,

Pales this earth's sun to dark of night.



                                                            MARK GRAHAM 11/99
















AWAKENING



I awaken in the early hours

                        With that familiar gnawing feeling

            That I am somehow too alone.

I wonder if something has insidiously taken possession of us -

            Through the TV perhaps

Or as we drive (driven)

            To and fro, to and fro, to and fro,

Alone in our cars

                        Angry at each other for being so many and in the way,

Slowing each other down in the relentless pursuit.


We move faster than ever, and do more than ever, and yet,

            Amazingly, are frustrated because we can't move faster

            And get it all done!

(How fast and how much would be enough?)


Our various sets of friends, gained and lost at every move,

            Are reduced to annual Christmas cards with brief notes

            And photographs, or made-up lives sent through social media -

                                    Thin, hopeful webs spun across the abyss

                                    Of time and space.


Uprootedness is our way-of-being.

We know our TV programs better than we know each other.

Our home a brief and thankful meeting place

            For family members living segregated lives,

Daily dispersing in different directions

                        Passing ships in the night

                                    Close, yet distant

                                                Undone, incomplete, guilty.


This picture is only part of the whole -

                        The lamentable part.


Love is real and happening - I know.

            And it's the greater force

And promised to be triumphant in the end -

                        And I believe it.


I will continue to be faithful.

            I will continue to make my weak and pathetic

            Gestures of love -

                                                I will care.

I will continue to offer my two or three fish

            And few loaves of bread

And hope that Jesus will do the miracle - multiply -

            Feed five thousand ravenous needs in famished hearts.



And I have seen fresh flowers bloom in garbage dumps, and in cracks in vast concrete and steel environs.


And I have heard a birdsong in the cold of rainy night.


And I have seen the sun rise after death.


And each day - today! -

                        Is more than full

                                      Of all we need

                                                   To let love be triumphant

Over

                                                                        Worry

                                                Frustration

                             Desire

                Comfort

                                    and

Aloneness.


MARK F. GRAHAM   1/00






HAPPINESS:   A.A. Milne


John had great big waterproof boots on,

            John had a great big waterproof hat,

John had a great big waterproof Macintosh,

            And that (said John) is that!








SOULSOUNDS


There are still some places far enough away from the

            people-sounds of everything that can be

 plugged in, turned on or cranked up -

            Far enough away so that

nature-sounds come into balance with people-sounds 

           

The people-sounds (children's voices, hammering and sawing, even autos) sound peaceful from a distance.

  They're not loud enough to cover

the faint kiss of a yellow-rumped warbler,

            or an insect (perhaps a green fly) humming by

                                    like a shooting star,

or an owl a mile-and-a-half away,

                          or (especially)

the wind through the pines and sagebrush fields.


And if you listen,    listen,    listen,   long enough

            you begin to hear with your whole being

and your soul begins to resonate with

 Something       

 that is            

infinitely  ancient,  

                              deep,   

peaceful

                                                                     and so  good

           that tears of joy well up from your soul.


And you know that it would be just as perfect

            to die in that moment as it has always been

                        and will be if you live to a hundred.


And you know,

            beyond the faintest butterfly wing breath of a doubt

that GOD is.


And your soul is restored.


And, with a smiling heart

            you carry the glowing embers of that fire

                                                with you

back into the noise.


Mark F. Graham,  1/30/00



PSALM OF LIFE

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



Tell me not in mournful numbers

Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.


Life is real - Life is earnest -

And the grave is not is goal

Dust thou art, to dust returneth,

Was not spoken of the soul.


Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act that each tomorrow

Find us farther than today.


Art is long and time is fleeting,

And our hearts, tho' stout and brave,

Still like muffled drums are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.


In the world's broad field of battle

In the bivouac of life,

Be not like dumb driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!


Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act - act in glorious Present!

Heart within and God o'erhead!


Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footsteps on the sands of time.


Footsteps, that, perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.


Let us then be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.


                                   

BIRTH

Mark and John David Graham



                                      The sun is resting easy on the sky

The waves are lapping softly on the sand

A flock of cattle egrets flying by

To roost with friends in some far-distant land.


The pink and purple hues are fading fast

The darkness stalks across as stealthy beast

The light of day is soon to die at last

As stars begin to twinkle in the East.


I think of how my life, like light of day

Must also come to twilight, then to night,

Before it moves into that endless Day

In which the Father's Love is endless Light.


Like sun that now has gone beyond the earth,

My soul shall find in Christ its morning birth.

2/01






FOR A MAN TO LOVE ALL WOMEN,

                        IN THE WAY THAT IS THE BEST,

HE MUST BE TO ONE A HUSBAND

                        AND A BROTHER TO THE REST.

Mark F. Graham   3/01












AWAKENING IN CARIBBEAN


Don't you think that now is the time

            For awakening - for awakening?


Don't you think it's time to open wide our eyes

            And see - and see as we have never seen

How beautiful - how beautiful

            It is that we are here

How beautiful - How beautiful

                        It is here?



I think that this is the time that

            We are awakening - we are awakening.


I think that this is the time that we are opening our hearts     wider than ever to feel the Truth that has always been

growing clearer through the fog of all our various lostnesses -

            Our fears and betraying doubts -

Our delusions -  (How strong they have been!)

That kept us from loving each other (And how sadly destructive!)


            But no more!  No more!

Now, more than ever, the universal Sun of Truth is shining

through the thinning fog,

            And we are seeing, more of us than ever,

What the saints and prophets and poets have been pointing to                     

Within ourselves.


And, Oh!, the goodness of It can never be spoken,

            And has been spoken in so many tongues and times,

And will be spoken in ever more joyful celebrations

            Throughout eternity!


As we learn the hard and wonderful lessons of Love

            (Who is guiding us into the fullness of Truth)

We learn to blend together the gifts that have been forged

            In the crucibles of many cultures, religions, nations and denominations.

            We share with each other these gifts and the lessons learned from many mistakes -


And, Oh!, the goodness of where that sharing and loving

            are taking us can never be spoken,

And has been spoken in so many ways and means,

            And will be spoken in ever more joyful celebrations

Throughout eternity!


           

            We are alive! And will somehow ever be alive!

The awesome Force and Power by which we are here in this universe is beneficent and creative beyond our capacities yet to know -



But this we can know,

            As never before -

Because we are awakening as never before.


We can know more clearly and deeply and unshakably

            That the Hands in which we have ever been and will ever be -

The Hands that molded the macrocosmic and microcosmic

            Nooks and crannies of this universe -

Conceived conception, maleness, femaleness,

            the feelings of a mother for her child,

the colors of the ocean, sky, flowers and butterflies -

            These Hands, this awesome Force or Blending of Forces,

By Whatever Name we might ascribe to Him or Her or Them -

                        is Loving and Giving in nature

                        is Eternal

                        is unspeakably Wise and Creative

                        and is awesome in Power.


And the truth of this Truth

            Sets everything and everything and everything

                        At Peace in the Soul.


And sets us free

                                    to Love!

                                                and Celebrate!

As never before!


                                                                                    Mark F. Graham

                                                                                    8/8/01

                                                                                    Sovereign of the Sea

                                                                                    Caribbean






                                                           

WOMAN WITH MAN ON BEACH


She watches him as he does the things he does.

          If he drops something, she picks it up.

If he forgets, she reminds.

          If something is dangling or hanging or unfinished

She notices and attends.

          Her spirit and senses and intuition

                   Are all around him,

Centered in his flow of action

          Focused on him

Enhancing his very life

          Learning about him like a totally involved student


And always ready to teach him

          [in that unknowing way, if he will allow]

About the infinitely beautiful and profoundly important

          Softer aspects of love.


6/04 Gulf Shores






NEW YORK ‘04


New York is safer and softer than I thought.

          People are mostly kind there, too.

And they take time to sit on quilts in Central Park and laugh at the antics of their children


          Even while courageous prophets stand with boldly-worded banners of warning and preach loudly - as John the Baptist against the sins of Herod - into the gathered crowd of

gay-wedding guests on Fifth Av.

                   “You can have a wedding,

                   but you won’t have a marriage.

                   A marriage happens when God joins

                   together a MAN and a WOMAN!

                   The Bible says a man shall leave his

                   FATHER and MOTHER,

                   and be joined to his WIFE!

                   Homosexuality is an abomination to God!”


          Later, the TV newscaster says casually

                   “It was a beautiful day for the Gay-Pride Parade.”

As if it were the most natural thing in the world for homosexuals to be taking pride in their homosexuality -

          As if it were as common as the Easter Parade that had proceeded down the same avenue a few weeks earlier.


The wedding guests are much annoyed by the hateful voice of Christianity.  They much prefer the looming darkness not be exposed.

          “If the Christians would just go away,

          everything would be so nice.”


I wonder if Jesus, as He did in Cana, will turn this water into wine.







 

CHRIST-MUSE

Mark F. Graham

12/08/01



I forgot, one season to the next,

        How certain sins my wayward soul had vexed,

‘Til they had brought me so much pain and grief

        To Christ I turned and found more than relief.


And now my soul, forgiven, wings above

The slime that stained and fog that dimmed His Love,

And, thankful, yearns that people near and far

        Would, like the Wise Men, seek the Christmas Star,


And, like them, kneel in awe at Bethlehem’s stall
         Where, in that Child, is gathered all in all

That wakens, transforms, sets the captives free;

        To finite mind unveils eternity,


And in this meek and unpresuming birth

Find Heaven’s gifts brought lovingly to earth.

                And in this simply lived and early-ended life

        Find end of envy, guilt and greed and strife.








Homer:  The Nest 


Sunset at 10:19pm, and again at 10:25

          I can’t take my eyes off  it

Even tho’ the alarm’s set for 5 to go fishing.


There is a beauty in this May Alaska air –

          A beauty that grabs you deep – deep – deep

And you don’t want to let go of it.

          It stays long – like the daylight.

                                                                      5/04




SHAME ON YOU!


There is a certain shame

          A certain hanging of the head

Because I know that I have failed

          At something very important –

At living life and loving love to the fullest

          I know I haven’t.


So I try to keep my head low

          And hope no one notices.

Maybe they will think I am as good as

          I wish I could be.

Maybe the Truth Police will not come

And ruthlessly expose me

For what  I know myself to be.


But wait:

          If the Truth Police were really truthful

Wouldn’t they be hanging their heads too?

          Aren’t we all in the same shameful boat?


I want to fall on my face and cry out from the depths of my soul:

          “Oh, God!  Please forgive us!

Please, please cleanse us inwardly

          From the shame and guilt of our despicable

Apathy and selfishness and hedonism!”


But that (as important as it is)

          Is not enough.

There is something else I must do.


          I must live life.

          I must love love.


mfg 2/05


RAT-RACE MEDITATION

 



Hurtling through on a wing and a prayer


Almost legal and a little late


Wondering how many loose ends might be dangling


          And whether I‘ll crash and burn if they don’t get tied together.


Heart pumping and scanning the horizon for the next blind-siding intrusion.


          Pushing on ahead in spite of it all.




Until I am still for awhile


                   Long enough to realize that


                             I really do love this roller coaster ride.                                                                                            


                                                                             Mfg 5/05














It can be joyful

          Pulling weeds from the garden

                   So flowers can grow.



Even a dullard

Can feel a breath of beauty

With an open heart.




Sleepiness arises.

What is really important?

The gift of a nap!


                             The ocean is not

                             Damaged by the tsunami.

                             You are the ocean!







COOKIN’ OUT  1/06


The kitty’s rubbin’ softly on my ankles

            While the soft breeze caresses my cheeks and

The wind chimes are tellin’ me that a front’s comin’ thru

            But right now this warm January night

Filled with the sounds of frogs and crickets

            Is so damn good my insides melt

Into a more than perfect peace

            While the steaks sizzle softly, gettin’ done

And me and Lynn will so enjoy them when she gets home 

            And once again I come into the realization

That life is so much better than any of us have yet realized!







THE EARTH


A flower has bloomed in this part of the universe.

The Earth.

All the more beautiful because of its impermanence.

Like all flowers, it will mature and fade.


Perhaps God allowed this part of the barren universe to slumber for countless eons,

            No conscious beings to contemplate this angle of the night sky;

No conscious beings, not even the sound of a cricket, for millions of light-years in any direction –

            If at all! –

Before He decided to bring forth all this incredible beauty

[And us to stand in awe of it]

Wrapped in its womb-like atmosphere that protects us from that fatal vacuum

            Just outside its bounds –

Those forces that we slightly taste in our worst hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes,

            Famines, droughts and deluges.


How we are protected and nurtured by this blue sky and warm earth!

            How thankful we should ever be for this beautiful, life-teeming flower

                        Brought forth in Love

                                    For us!


mfg  3/06



















A Reed Shaken by the Wind


I found a place – a wide expanse

          Filled with sunlight, the aroma of mimosa blossoms

Wild plums and blackberries and clear blue sky all around

          Bright yellow daisies, green mountains and human sounds far away.

Nothing but me and all this and sounds of

          Orchard Orioles, Indigo Buntings, Yellow-Breasted Chat

And the elegant flight of swallows in a steady, cool breeze.


I found a place where I could get in touch with the deep goodness

Of solitude and the amazing, wonderful, peaceful beauty and goodness of the earth and ALL.


I found that place again where my soul encompasses and is encompassed by

                                                        ALL!


But it’s not all perfect yet –

          A deep inner gnawing reminds me that Uncle Gordon is demented

And Aunt Joyce is wondering if she’s gonna have to put him in the nursing home.  Bart and Melia aren’t together and I haven’t talked to Bart in

a long time.  Brad and Steph are separated; looks like it might be a divorce.

          Mom needs company and Lynn’s expecting me home.


This is all beautiful – more than I can soak in;

          But “I have promises to keep.”


This “reed shaken in the wind” cannot sustain my soul.


Until we all get There

          Only the Love of Jesus can.


                                                          Mfg 6/05/06  Shelvin Rock Rd.

                                                          Fayetteville, AL







LYNN


I come in from work late and she’s cooking.  “What?”

“Oh it’s for Scott.  I’m makin’ such a mess.  I made enough for you and Brad, too; but I don’t know if it’s gonna be any good.”

It’s a shrimp dish.  She doesn’t like shrimp.  Scott’s sister-in-law’s  funeral is tomorrow and Lynn’s expressing our condolences with food. 


“I wonder if Betty is alright.”  “Why?” I ask.  “Her kitchen light’s been on for more’n and hour and I haven’t seen her.  She never leaves that light on unless she’s in the kitchen.”  I go over.  She’s OK, and comforted to know  Lynn’s lookin’ out for her.


“Can you take Brad’s watch to the jeweler?  He wants three links taken out of the band.  If you can take it by, I’ll pick it up on my lunch break.”


So generous.  So keenly focused on others’ needs.  So un-self-aware.


Her greatest gift is her devotion to Christ, Who is shaping her character like a master Jeweler working with sterling silver, gold and precious stones.


                                                          Mfg 6/9/06



















PHARISEES


THEY WAKE UP IN THE MORNING

            FROM A NIGHT OF PERFECT SLEEP

HAVE DEVOTIONS, EAT THEIR BREAKFAST

            BRUSH AND FLOSS THEIR PERFECT TEETH.


They dress their perfect bodies

            In array of perfect style

AND GO OUT TO FACE THE MORNING

            WITH AN ALMOST PERFECT SMILE.


THEY WIN ACCOLADES OF PRAISE

            FOR PERFORMING PERFECT WORK

NOT A DUTY UNATTENDED,

            NO ASSIGNMENT WOULD THEY SHIRK.


KEEPING PRESSURE ON THEIR CHILDREN

            NOT TO LET THE IMAGE DOWN

GOOD PERFORMANCE, GREAT RESULTS,

            GOOD REPUTATION THRU-OUT TOWN.


THRU YEARS OF REGULAR ATTENDANCE

            PAYING TITHES AND BEING “BLESSED”

NOT A SIGN OF IMPERFECTION

            NOT A SIN TO BE CONFESSED.



THEY ARE PERFECTLY AVOIDANT

            OF PERSISTENT NAGGING FEARS,

AND SURE TO KEEP FROM PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE

            SECRET NIGHTS OF SILENT TEARS.


DAYS ARE PASSING; DAYS OF LONGING

            UNFULFILLMENT, HIDDEN PAIN

KEPT BEHIND A PERFECT IMAGE

            OF PERSISTENT GROWTH AND GAIN.


PERFECTLY THEY LIVED, AND NOW

            THEY PERFECTLY HAVE DIED

FACED A TRULY PERFECT GOD

            AND FOUND THEY PERFECTLY HAVE LIED.


                                                            Mark Graham, ‘04



BACKYARD ORCHESTRA


Every evening and every morning and all throughout the day,

An orchestra directed by none other than the God of this universe

Assembles in my back yard with unique and diverse combinations of sounds

Always in perfect pitch and harmony

To delight my soul.


This evening, it started with a duet: White-eyed Vireo [encouraging someone to “pick-up-a-real-chick”]

And Chickadee melodically repeating his name.

Then, on cue, the Wood Thrush offers his heavenly flute-like tune: a resonance that has inspired greater poets than I dare hope to be.

As the lowing sun gracefully sheds its pinkish hue on tall pines’ western branches,

A Mourning Dove softly coos, like a doting mother to her sleepy infant.

At least two species of frogs, moved by the medley, join in, with hopes, perhaps of calling up some rain to frolic in.

Far off, even the raucous caw of a Blue Jay does not overwhelm the music;

And the big voice of the little Wren proclaims “Liberty, Liberty, Liberty, Liberty”

As Cicadas—newly-emerged from years of underground darkness—celebrate the summer light with their loud crescendos and decrescendos.


This lovely music fills my head and heart and brings in mystic view the countless rivers flowing toward earth’s great oceans encompassing the infinitely varied shorelines—soft  and sandy, or rugged cliffs washed with salty spray—while through our womb-like protective atmosphere,  scattering and mixing the sun’s light into more colors than could ever be placed on artist’s canvas, flow semi-random patterns of weather caressing and blessing the land and all it’s inhabitants—or else sending us scampering,  with pounding hearts, into safer shelters, blessing us in that other way, with reminders that there are  powers lurking that are greater than man and all that he has garnered in his never-ending quest to subdue, survive, prosper.


But no power greater than that great Love by which this all has come to be; the Power in which all originates, resides, and finds its ultimate fulfillment and completion; the Power proclaimed, celebrated, revered, feared, and partly manifested by all these voices, flowings, patterns, and the great and small movements of this earth, and onward beyond the cold still universe, and whatever cosmic, vast unimagined forces move in and out of balance within the great Unending Balance.


Mark Graham, 5/08





 

WHY I BIRDWATCH


Robins don’t rush

And wrens don’t wallow

You won’t hear complaint

In the chirps of a swallow


Martins don’t mutter

And hawks don’t hate

Hummingbirds flutter

But they don’t ruminate


Sparrows don’t worry

And they do just fine

Laughing gulls laugh

And whimbrels don’t whine


Herons don’t hoard

Dove don’t deceive

Bluebirds aren’t bored

Chats don’t cheat


Geese don’t gossip

And they help each other fly

In times of trouble

Willets don’t ask “Why?”


In the dark of the night

Mockingbirds sing

And to fly with the eagle

Is a wondrous thing


In the fine-feathered world

There’s much to see

About what God offers

To you and me.


Mark Graham 1/09



Question

                                                                        Mark Graham 2/09



Clouds moving across the face of a full moon

            A spring-like breeze on a warm winter night

To freshly fill our lungs and softly stir the wind chimes

            Calling us into mindfulness


The loving, lulling sounds of frogs and crickets

            Celebrating the fresh-fallen rain

The little creatures: The wild ones that search the night for food

            And the domestic ones who, like children, look to us as we look to God

Affectionately, faithfully, to sustain.


Manhood and womanhood. 

Friends with whom to gather, laugh, and be renewed.

All the wild and wonderful ways that we have come to know and celebrate life together!

            Christ’s Spirit, with us always, unforsaking, awakening us

                                                To Forgiveness

                                                To Love

                                                Freedom

                                                And Joy!

Death as our “final victory.”


            How can we not be so full, so overflowing

Like ocean swells compressed through blowholes, spraying higher

            and higher

Like crows flying in first cold autumn air after long hot summer

            Swirling, diving, cawing

Like mockingbird on highest point, singing, singing, then flying

            Adding the upward sweep of his body to the insufficiency of his song

Like a terrier, jumping, barking, wagging, trembling with joy when

            His long-awaited master returns

Like the first kiss of someone for whom your heart has longed and longed

            And who, you now realize for the first time, has longed for you

How can we not open and lift our joyful hearts in an endless offering

Of gratitude

For God’s unspeakable gift of awakening us into this awesome, mysterious adventure?







PRAYER


I prayed for water—just enough to float my little boat,

          In a time of drought and dry eternity.

In time, the gates of heaven opened up

          And launched me on a vast and vibrant sea.








BE THAT ALIVE!



He came that we might have abundant life.

Abundant life.  Abundant life!

How alive are you?

How alive do you want to be?

BE THAT ALIVE!


Don’t walk with the walking dead.

Open your eyes, rub away whatever gook films your vision.

Look!  Really see what is here and now.

Listen! 

In a million voices

God is calling, inviting into new life.

Christ is the only prerequisite.

Have Him, as He desires;  welcome Him

And have All!

Feel the goodness of eternal Love

Being poured upon, into you,

Raining down,

Bubbling up,

Sinking in,

Permeating, radiating,

Whispering,

Calling quietly

Screaming!  “Wake up!

How alive do you want to be?

BE THAT ALIVE!”

Be a warrior! 

Do battle with those forces that steal, kill, and destroy.

Love enough to drive away those oppressive clouds of fear and doubt

Self-deprecation, criticism, complaint, worry, guilt, dread,

And whatever blocks the Sunshine of the Life

That God so clearly and evidently wants you to live.

Like a puppy in a great big yard, Like bird in first flight!

How alive do you want to be?

BE THAT ALIVE.  BE THAT ALIVE!

3/09




If we could see a film clip of our lives just now, we would see me dancing around, trying to be bright and get it right; and you sitting with an unyielding face, expecting me to do that dance, but not letting it be enough to overcome the wrong that I did not even know that I committed—not letting me off the hook, because then I might stop dancing and trying, which I would not do, now, because now I know that doing good is what I’m here for, and I’m doing it [in this imperfect way] not because I’m “on the hook” anymore, but because God said so, so I’m able to do this dance without resentment, and love you, even with your stern face, [thereby keeping myself off the hook.]

But there is this sadness, this temporary sadness that I accept, but see as so unnecessary—this sadness for what could be if we both were dancing with no one firing bullets at our feet.

[Or----- it all could be a mistaken judgment on my part.  That hard countenance may be your best effort not to be mean to me, or blame me for the difficulties of life and the ways my failures have hurt you.  After all, you did cook breakfast and kiss me goodbye.  I have to say, tho’{in a way that I hope is not a bullet fired at your feet to make you dance in a particular way} I would forego the breakfast, and even the kiss, for a happier heart within you.]


In truth, I realize, my failures have sowed the seeds of some [probably large] portion of that sadness I see in you.  I take full responsibility.  But I ask for forgiveness, and I am thankful for the promises that deliver us from all oppression of spirit.  I hope we can be happier.


























LOOKING UP


You can’t look up all the time

            You will stumble and fall

But if you never look up

            You will miss:

Sunrises and sunsets

Rainbows

Birds in flight

And the myriad patterns of multicolored clouds

By day

The moon and stars

And an occasional “shooting star”

By night.



Being careful not to stumble

Look up as much as you can.



Mark Graham 4/09





















EVEN THO’


Even tho’ we live on a giant orb that spins on its perfectly tilted axis as it revolves around a greater, fiery ball that is too bright to look at from ninety-three million miles away [one of countless billions in infinite space];

And even tho’ we are man and woman—alike and yet wonderfully different;

Even tho’ each one of us comes from a single, tiny cell that has within it the “knowledge” to produce a whole, living, interconnected system of perfectly working organs that support our consciousness, sustain, and even protect us from harmful microscopic invaders;

And even tho’ this planet is encircled by mysteriously-appearing air, and has growing upon it everything we need to mix and match more sumptuous forms of food for our amazing bodies than we will ever be able to experience, and more beauty in the forms of sights, smell, tastes and sounds of night and day than we will ever in our lifetimes be able to appreciate;

Even tho’ we have the gifts of music and humor;

Even tho’ we can communicate and have the power of life and death in our tongues;

Even tho’ we are the beneficiaries of the whole human family’s past history of discoveries, mistakes, failures, wars, and revelations;

Even tho’ we can sit in our backyard with a small, unattached device in the palm of the hand, press a few buttons and converse with a friend or mate half-way around the earth;

Even tho’ we are surrounded by living creatures of every stripe and color, crawling, swimming and flying, some of which love nothing better than to snuggle in our laps;

Even tho’ the odds of us being here at all are miniscule beyond belief because [among other miracles] of all our ancestors, going back to Adam and Eve, who had to survive and bear children [and they are all infused into our minds and spirits];

Even tho’ we can somehow love each other, and the Messiah has come and told us that that’s the most important thing, and we can get better at it if we are willing, and we have that hope and His great Spirit, and even tho’ it seems too good to be true, the promise of eternal life;

Even tho’ all this….and so much more…

We have this insidious tendency to walk around bored, half alive, feeling deprived, complaining; taking ourselves, each other, life, and Him for granted.                                                        New Year’s Day 2010


Jesus said, “Peace be with you.  As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”  And with that He breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit….” Jn. 20: 21-22



I RECEIVE.  I GIVE.


As the Earth receives the rain, welcoming it down to the deep roots and wellsprings of Life;

Lord I receive Your Holy Spirit.


As the plants receive the sunlight, warming, giving the energy of Life;

Lord I receive Your Holy Spirit.


As the flower opens its petals to the warmth of the sun;

Lord I open my heart to Your Love.


As the live oak stands strong in the face of hurricane-force winds,

With my roots deep down in my faith in You, I withstand the trials and adversities of life.


Like the fruit tree orchards and vast fields of corn and grain,

My spirit bears the life nourishing fruit and seeds of the Kingdom.


Like the rivers that swell and flood and replenish and cleanse the land,

The Rivers of Living Water flow from my soul, cleansing and liberating the souls of men.


As You died on that hill, on that cross, with a prayer in Your heart and on Your lips for me,

I die to all that is selfish and vain in me, and rise on the Wings of Your Spirit into a life of Love and Good Will for all my people—Your people.


Lord, I receive.         Lord, I give.         Lord, I receive.         Lord, I give…..












LAWNMOWERS                    


Lawnmowers are ruthless.


They loudly cut, chop and pulverize everything more than two inches above-ground,

No matter how colorful or useful to bee, bird or butterfly

Leaving a square-edged green desert

Fit only for the foot of man.

                                                          4/11/10  [after cutting the grass]





























Alone



Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home        
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
 
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.




Alone, all alone


Nobody, but nobody


Can make it out here alone.




There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.


But nobody


No, nobody


Can make it out here alone.






Nobody, but nobody


Can make it out here alone.






Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering      
And I can hear the moan,
 
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.






Alone, all alone


Nobody, but nobody


Can make it out here alone





SONORAN DESERT ADVENTURE, 4/10


Full and alive with tough and thorny plants, trees with wood hard as iron;

Yet strangely sparse

Earth-tone colors changing, shadows shifting with sun and sky—different worlds from vibrant-cool morning, to sultry noon, to calm and colorful sunset.

Full of the combined melody of white-winged and mourning doves, house finches, cactus wrens, and gambel quail.

The striking beauty of cactus flowers, vivid in the wake of much winter rain.

Hilltops sprinkled with poppy patches and fields, bluebonnets and a dozen other species of wildflowers, backed by saguaro cacti towering over canyon slopes leading up to jagged reddish mountains, while the cool breeze refreshes after the hot walk up from the canyon floor, where we got our feet wet crossing the stream—cool , melted mountain snow, soaking into the thirsty desert earth, feeding the deep roots of the cotton wood trees where the migrating birds can catch a caterpillar to fuel the northward trek.

The winding ride up snow-draped Mt. Lemmon on Easter Day; the picnickers finding refuge from the heat below, their children hiding Easter eggs; lunch at Summerhaven [truly a cool “summer haven” for heat-stricken Tucsonians] while our long-eared squirrel friend enjoyed his lunch in the towering evergreen.

Hiking Sabino and Catalina Canyons.  San Pedro Riparian Conservation Area.  Yellow warblers and vermilion flycatchers.  San Xavier Mission.

Upscale, artistic beauty of Tubac—and the good food at the deli!

Westward Look Happy Hour and  Date night steak and guitar music.

Hummingbirds, and the little nestling.

Orange sunsets silhouetted with palm and saguaro,

While the little rabbit hopped in front of our patio

And the cactus wren made the final adjustments to her nest.






MY DAD


My dad worked at the paper mill, and when he came home, up the hill, I ran and jumped off the block wall that separated our lawn from our driveway, into his strong arms.

The paper mill odor on him smelled good to me.


My dad saved me from drowning at Lake Martin when I got in over my head.  I was panicked, and swallowed a lot of water, and when he grabbed me, with those strong arms, I wrapped everything I had around him and didn’t let go for a long time.


My dad stopped drinking, just like he promised me, because he couldn’t drink just a little, and he saw what it was doing to Mom and us.


My dad joined the church and became a deacon.  He winked at Mom when he passed her pew, taking up the offering.


My dad pulled me behind the boat, water skiing.  One time I got the rope tangled around my arm and he took off too soon and hurt me; but I could see it hurt him more than me.


My dad came to every one of my football games, and I think it was mostly because of him I was the captain of the team, and got a scholarship.  I always knew he was proud of me.


My dad was a welder, and had the scars on his forearms to show for it.  He earned us a very good living, and bought two new cars in 1962—one for the family, and one for my older sister.


When Mom was in the hospital, Dad visited her every day after work, staying ‘til visiting hours were over, then driving 50 miles back home, to get up early to work the next day.

When Mom told him he didn’t have to do it, he said, “Aw Mom, I ain’t got nothin’ else to do.”


My dad had Alzheimer’s, and we lost him slowly, an inch a day, for a long time.  Mom kept him home because he never got mean; and we always had some pieces of him, even ‘til the very end; and they were very good pieces.  He winked at me during his last stay in the hospital, and I knew everything was OK. 


When we all knew he was dying, Mom said, “I’m losing my best friend.”


I watched him peacefully take his last breath.


I imagine him now, out there somewhere in God’s universe, having fun, like the time, with the scars on his chest and leg from his heart surgery, swinging out on the rope swing and dropping into Hatchet Creek; or when we were at the beach and he was trying to catch a wave on a broken-in-half styrofoam toy surfboard.


I don’t know if you can miss anybody in heaven; but if you can, I know he misses Mom.

Or maybe he’s just smiling about that too, knowing she’ll be there soon.


If you can help people on earth from heaven, Dad’s still helping me; and I’m glad, ‘cause I’m a dad now, and I need some help.  I hope I can do as well as he did.


[mfg] Father’s Day, 2010

TIME


Another season’s come and gone

            Time passes by so fast.

Arise! Do good!  Let your light shine!

            This day could be your last. mfg   








EMBRACE LIFE!


Embrace Life!

Embrace this day

As you would embrace your beloved mate

After a long separation.


Do not be disappointed.

            The tribulation that is woven into the fabric of life

Makes the garment strong and durable.

            Shadows define the objects of Light.

Winter has its own beauty.


Awaken your curiosity!

            If you open your eyes

You will see wonders you have never seen

            Along the paths you have daily walked.


Be compassionate!     

            Others need your kindness

Like flowers need sunlight and rain

            To blossom!


Be thankful! 

Every moment of this day is a treasure!

Awaken with anticipation

Of the adventures, surprises, and opportunities that await you

In this day!


Today I will embrace life.  I will not be disappointed.

I will be curious and attentive.  I will be kind to others.

Even though I have some problems, I am thankful to God for the unspeakable gift

                                    Of Life!                 [mark graham]







 O JERUSALEM



Today my heart is yearning, yearning

Evil fires are burning, burning

There’re people killing, people dying,

People cheating, stealing, lying

Children left out in the cold

Ignored, abandoned when they’re old

Selfish needs replacing love

No reverent seeking from above

Control and power dominate

Division, ridicule and hate


Jesus looking from above

Tear-streaked face, heart full of love

“O Jerusalem...” He cries

As storm clouds gather in the skies.


Hallelujah!

Today my heart is glowing, glowing

            God’s Love is overflowing, flowing.

Hummingbirds and butterflies

            White clouds flowing through blue skies

Children singing, laughing, playing

            Parents loving, working, praying

All remind me of His Love

            And tender watch-care from above

Dark of evil fades away

            Into the Son’s full light of Day.


God is surely on His throne

            We will never be alone

Christ redeemed us from the Fall

            God’s Love overcometh all!

MFG 10/10


















The Money God

Last night I witnessed the money god

            The wonderful, funderful funny god

His worshippers were there with their moneyful glare

            With greed in their eyes and praise in their stare


They knew sure as death with the very next breath

 They’d be rollin’ in dough ‘cause their father said so


So come on let’s roll ‘em again

Come on let’s run ‘em again.


I saw how the money god blessed his believers

            With promises of peace that he never delivers

‘Cause soon as you make it and think you are “there”

            The money god bids you to look up the stairs

And there on the floor on the one up above

            Sit the children who’ve been blessed with more of his love

And he bids you to “come” to “step out” and “be seen”

            And he passes the plate for more of the green.


The folks on the floor up above look so proud

As they smile down at you where you stand in the crowd

You can tell things are ever so fine where they are

As they eat fine cuisine and sip drinks from the bar


So come on let’s roll ‘em again

Come on let’s run ‘em again.


Now get your ears on real straight and hear a loud lonely call

            The money god’s really not God at all

And he’ll only keep leading you down his dark hall

            The one with no ending, no ending at all

Except desperation and utter regret

            In knowing you’ve lost out on God’s biggest bet

So turn to the real God; the One up in Heaven

            Who has more in store than just “seven-eleven”

He’s “The” God, the real God of Love, understanding

            He’s there now, He’s been there, and will always be standing


Right outside…the door…of your heart.


MFG

[After my first visit to the dog races, Tampa, 1978]



MY PRAYER

Mark F. Graham



I do not ask for wealth or fame

            Nor length of days upon this earth

I ask not for a worthy name

            Excess of happiness or mirth.


I do not need a miracle

            To reinforce my waning faith

My load is not unbearable

            I am sustained by what Thou saith.


I do not need a clearer vision

            Than that Thou hast in Christ revealed

I need no stronger sense of mission

            Nor tribulation be repealed. 


If Thou wouldst hear my humble plea

            I ask a miracle more grand

Than when Thy breath did part the Sea:

            Please, make of me a decent man!

Mfg 1/2011
























THE KINGDOM

Mark Graham


What if we all were servants? How wonderful that would be!

            I would be serving you, and you would be serving me.

We both would be serving together the people who ‘round us stood

            And trying to make their lives better; at least as best we could.


Then where would there be tears of sorrow?

Where would pain, hurt, and worry call home?

In our magical mystical Kingdom

            With King Love in our hearts on the throne?


And the people who ‘round us were standing, would also be doing their part

            To give to us what we needed; letting God’s love flow right thru their heart

And we all knew that people all over were just looking for something to do

            For somebody else in the Kingdom that would say “This is how God loves you”


Then where would there be tears of sorrow?

Where would pain, hurt and worry call home?

In our magical mystical Kingdom

            With King Love in our hearts on the throne?


Yes it’s sad that we all are not servants. In our world there are “takers” as well.

            And they sure know their business these “takers”

But they don’t know they’re headed for hell

            And that’s why we must still go on serving

For our Lord knows that this is the Way

            To save our lost brothers and sisters

And have peace in our hearts every day.


And where will there be tears of sorrow?

            Where will pain, hurt, and worry call home?

In our magical mystical Kingdom

            With our Lord Jesus Christ on the throne?













Regi’s Death


Death looms large and daunting

    Like a mountain

Casting a dark, oppressive shadow over any meager words or deeds of condolence.


The death of a child is like Everest.

         We sit in the shadow

          Hoping to awaken from the nightmare.

          Words are mumblings.

          Vision is blurred.

           We are like zombies.

The ache reaches to an uncharted depth in the soul.


(I am like a man plunged deep under water.

   I need to come up for air, but I cannot get to the surface.

Wave after wave plunges me deeper and deeper.

   Only now and then, when I briefly forget, or sleep,

Can I catch a breath.)


........After a while,

Slowly,

         Holding each other a little more closely,

We pick up the few things that are left

         and begin the long ascent up the mountain.


Somewhere solid, deep down, under all the pain

         We know that Jesus is right.

Though it will never be the same,

          When we get to the top

It will be alright.

..........Maybe much more than alright.


6/22/11













I REALIZE NOW


I realize now

That that time spent in summer months

In the “Little Jungle”,

Exploring the vast unknown worlds of woods, barns, pastures

Making up adventures

Foraging [like our Choctaw and Creek ancestors]  blackberries, plums, muscadines

Discovering praying mantises, walking sticks and June bugs

Killing snakes

Wandering barefoot down dusty dirty dirt roads under clear blue summer skies

[My little dog, so happy to be with us on another excursion]

Swimming and fishing in the creek

Blazing ever new trails

Stealing cigarettes from MawMaw’s store and smoking them under the barn

Falling asleep late, looking at stars through campfire smoke

Safely surrounded, not too compactly, by a community of family and friends

Many of whom would gather in the little church each Sunday

To sing beautiful hymns and hear about the love of Jesus and the perils of hell

 [which could come upon you for stealing and smoking!]

Always having a safe and secure home with loving parents to return to


I realize now

How profoundly important was that time

More than any work I’ve ever done; more than college; more than most of my adult relationships

More than anything except my faith in Jesus

Which is also rooted in that time


10/8/12









Let us be like a bird
For a moment perched on a frail branch when he sings;
Though he feels it bend, yet he sings his song
Knowing that he has wings.
                     Victor Hugo






Mastery




Like a squirrel masters movement through the tress,
     And an owl masters noiseless flight through a dense night forest;
As the earth masters sunlight,
    Filtering, and capturing its life-giving energy;
As a dolphin joyfully masters ocean currents;
    So you were created to master Life,
In the Spirit, peacefully flowing,
    Subduing, submitting, overcoming;
Compassionate and wise,
    Light in the darkness,
Yeast in the bread,
    Smiling heart.


                    MarkGraham 2014



Analysis Paralysis

A centipede was happy quite, until a frog in fun,
Said "Say, which leg comes after which?"
It set her mind to such a pitch
She lay distracted in the ditch
Considering how to run.
     unknown









THE LAST TIME I SAW BRADLEY






The last time I saw Bradley we met halfway between Fort Worth and Covington.


We stayed in a hotel in east Texas.


We swam in the pool.


He played with Ryan, tossing him into the air to fall joyfully back into the water.


Brad taught Ryan how to swim.


I have a photo, taken by sweet Julie, of the two of them in their apartment pool,


Brad and Ryan, faces full of the joy of a man and a nine year old boy.


I know that joy. I felt it with Brad when he was nine years old.


Brad was big, and free with his love, and laughed a lot with a contagious laugh.


He never seemed to miss a chance to bring out what was funny in life.


When we went out to eat catfish, he noticed, when I stood up from the table that I was moving my head strangely. “Something wrong with your neck Dad?” I was taken aback that he noticed.


And I felt loved by him.


I wish I could remember more.


If I had known this would be the last time.....would that have been a blessing or a curse?


A curse I suppose, since God has not set things up that way.


And I know that God is good. He gave me Bradley for thirty-five years.


But I have to say, deep, deep down in my heart, I still yearn with a groaning desire to hold that boy in my arms, as I have always and will always hold him in my heart.





I have another photo that I took when we were last together.


It's of Lynn and Brad, walking side by side down a trail by a river.


Brad has a walking stick, and they are talking casually, peacefully, mother and son.





Only now do I know how astoundingly precious it is to walk and talk casually and peacefully


with my loved ones—now that I know in this profoundly personal way, I may never, on this earth,


walk with them again.





Bradley Dream



I dreamed of Bradley.


I was on the upper [second] floor in a resort-like setting, feeling very much at home, overlooking the ocean, which was amazingly clear. I could see the bottom, hills and contours; and a large dolphin-like fish. I went downstairs to get my binoculars.


I opened a door and he was there, seated, smiling a big Bradley smile.


“Hey Dad.” He knew I was so glad to see him.


I hugged him: “Bradley, Bradley, Bradley!”


He looked so good, fine and healthy.


God winked at me!
                8/14/14




RESURRECTION!





Resurrection means new life


Available every moment


    Right now----and now-----and now!


Freedom from all oppression


Everything that is oppressive


What oppresses you?


Jesus overcame it----and lives in you!


Only those parts of your personality that are flapping in the breezes of this world,


Out from under His wings


Are vulnerable to the oppressive stuff.


So bring everything you've got under His wings


Every thought captive


You are not of this world


Like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, in the fiery furnace of this world


You will not have even the smell of smoke on those parts of you that are “in Him.”


The rest is wood, stubble and hay


And will be burned away in the Consuming Fire (the sooner the better),


It is nailed to the Cross and died, dead and buried.


You, the real you, arose with Him in new life that is not of this world


Not entangled in the worries and cares of this world


Not worried about the economy, politics, health, the kids, terrorism…..


Now you know why you're here and where you are going.


You are burning in the peaceful fire of His Love for the human family.


You are the Light of this world!


You are born again!


You are resurrected!


Again and again and again and again……


And death is your final victory!





Mark Graham