Blanchard
What if…
someone had cut down the cross
before it.was.finished?
Who would have done so…
What if…
that earth-shaking
soulchain-breaking
echo…were lost?
Who am I, then…
hide my hands in pockets deep
before carrying
the dank, rank soil of shame?
Bury it—foot of the cross
to love’s soul offered;
drop by sacrificial drop,
Christ’s blood eroding.
Even such waste—
by Christ’s love
decomposed—
can grow a flower.
jfig 4/17
Brokenness and shame, words that are now in the front lobes of our ‘helping conversations,’ make us ask what is true – about brokenness and grief and shame. What is taboo? How do we navigate toward health and wholeness? My poem is meant to convey, that under God’s tutelage, those things that pain us most, can be worked for our, and others’ good. Perhaps I did not say it exactly ‘right,’… but I am more concerned that it be true. It takes careful hands – starting with those beautiful nail-scarred ones of Jesus to sift the soil of our brokenness. If the poem was of interest, perhaps you would like to read:
2 Corinthians 1:3-11
Romans 8
Your comments are welcome. jfig
Roasted Words 