Tag: Parousia

In Sheer Joy

On By dorahakIn Art, Poems9 Comments
Ice Dawn by William Hays (Colour Linocut, 2010)

O LORD, sheer joy with you,
Israel, in exile Homeward bound
From among a people of strange tongue
Gone forth in sheer joy

Shouting Hallelujah!
Out of Egypt have I gone forth with you,
True and Faithful by name
In sheer Joy!

How heavy the moment
Is with eternity, Lord Jesus,
Yet each flows after the other
Like water escaping
The hand that captures
The eyes that see
The thoughts that would knot
Them into a jeweled chain
To be adorned not as memory
But as presence

Cradled birth, my life in your hands:
Tenderly kept as shepherd with lamb
Hurrying at angelic proclamations of peace
Heavens ringing hallelujahs
Your delight brooding over the waters
Breaking over this new life, moments Spirit-born

When come the magi bearing each —
On a camel fresh out of the box
Of ornaments and sweet scents
Frankincense and myrrh unpacked —
Mystery like knots unraveling sheer

Joy, O Lord! You give each new
Moment flowing rapidly bringing you
Nearer, sheer joy as I await the
Long-awaited coming in sheer joy!

Advent Cry (based on Psalm 18)

On By dorahakIn Church, Poems, Psalms16 Comments

I wept and You heard me
I cried out and You helped me
I knew no rest, only loss; to You
O LORD, I stretched my hands:

“I have no words
No pleas to offer
The wind is strong
My breath is gone

There is the desert
Where there’s no succor
Here is the sea
Where I will drown

Unless You come
To deliver
The world will take
The life you own.”

So I cried and in love You answered
You came down from Heaven’s splendor
Down, down, down as it was written,
Born of virgin, clothed in flesh.

From cords of death You unbound me
Shedding Your blood to release me
Nailed to a cross my guilt You bore for me
From the grave rising my life You saved.

Now I stand on solid ground
Upon the Rock You set me on
All the darkness flees before me
As with Your light I abound.

Like a deer upon Your holy mountain
New heights of glory I can see
Though rising waters still pursue me
Lord, my eyes are set on Thee.

Come, then, Jesus, as once before
You came Your children to deliver
Now return and never leave us
On that Day when all floods cease.

image credit: Gersom Clark

Not Our Will, But Thy Will Be Done

On By dorahakIn Poems29 Comments
For with You is the fountain of life; in Your light do we see light. (Psalm 36:9)
Not Our Will, But Thy Will Be Done

Silvery strands, hair falls in brush-fulls
one saint’s covering glory thread-bare
every thread-count, hair-count numbered
tears bottled, not nameless
not in a warehouse,
but in the house of the Lord, O En-hakkore,
on Zion’s mount, where nations stream
one day, El-Shaddai, that day
don’t delay, Yahweh, that hour
cry the faithful weeping from hospital beds
prison cells, beside mass graves,
the suffering martyrs, broken families
soldiers and civilians mere fodder for power,
numberless babes murdered in wombs:
hear our prayers, O LORD our God,
for the coming of Thy Son.

For today's dVerse Poetics, Ingrid asks us to "try to complete the poem as far as possible without writing it down. Think about the devices discussed above: regular rhythms, repeated phrases or ‘motifs’, alliteration and rhyme schemes – anything to aid the memory and help the words to flow....Make an audio/video recording of your poem and post it to your blog and/or transcribe your poem, so we can read the finished version." Click on Mr. Linky to join in and read more poems.

Waiting for Michaux-Perreaux

On By dorahakIn Fiction, Prompts41 Comments
photo prompt: Brenda Cox

Read more about the Michaux-Perreaux here, a French bicycle company that later invented the steam velocipede, one of three precursors to the modern motorcycle. I chose Michaux-Perraux for its rhyming allusion to Godot in this semi-allegory.

Genre: allegory; Word count: 100
Come along and join in with Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers.
Rochelle asks that we use the photo prompt 
and limit our words to 100 or less. 
Click on the frog to read more stories.

Waiting For Michaux-Perreaux

Every day, after work, the old cleaning woman sat on the bench staring at the Michaux-Perraux half in, half out of the building’s side. She was as much an oddity as the bicycle. Sometimes she was seen wiping tears away. Usually she sat poised expectantly. Nothing ever happened. Then, bowing her head, she would walk slowly away.

One day, an earthquake shook the town. The building was evacuated. As everyone watched, debris began falling, the wall with the bicycle cracked, and people screamed and ran.

All except the old woman.

The bicycle fell loose. Smiling, she rode it home.