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tribulation be repealed.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
No comments:
Post a Comment