I. A Still Small Voice If ravenous winds didn’t claw your house apart Turn it upside down And shake everything loose-- Every dark crevice and dust-filmed corner robbed of their secrets-- Would you still, even now Just be sitting there on the porch, cool evening, Begging for a revelation While a quiet breath brushed your … Continue reading A Still Small Voice
Category: Poetry
Spring (Finally)
This poem lay dormant for months, seeded in the waning days of autumn, when I wrote Anthem. Finally, spring is here with "A shout of triumph / An anthem of joy." Tight, verdant buds dot the naked limbs laid bare in winter, and a chartreuse film covers the ground greened in new grass raised from … Continue reading Spring (Finally)
Holy Week: Hope and Resurrection
How does the hard and frigid soil, packed from winter's brutal toil, think that spring will ever show-- unfurl above, thread below? What tiny hope stirs in the deep to resurrection's vigil keep? What life beneath is waiting there-- renewal's meat, drink, and air? It's Adam's dust, from Adam shaken, soil to flesh, the flesh … Continue reading Holy Week: Hope and Resurrection
Holy Week: Perfect Love
XV. What cracks the husk so that hope pushes its green head up to the light, and frail threads wend downward to mine the rich dark decay of yesterday's life? K. Ashby Previously: Holy Week: Nature Tells the Truth
This I Know
XVI. This I Know Sometimes devastation pummels from a charcoal sky at noon, but a dark sky doesn't change day to night. Night will only come when earth turns her face from sun. Proverbs 3:5-16, Joshua 23:14 K. Ashby
Silent Shout
XV. Anyone can see those pale curves were molded by a master. No amount of dust, no darkened corner can hide the same truth told by the sun as it sinks into lavender mountains-- rustling, fragrant trees hug glinting streams, uncurling ferns, a dragonfly wing-- the creation reveals its creator with a silent shout. K. … Continue reading Silent Shout
Anthem
XIV. When the air chills and the light dims, Autumn flames, then falls-- All that glory ground into the winter wet earth With other dead things-- Because in winter Life lies beneath, devouring death, Transforming all the rot and worthless things To cradle life, holding it in trust Until warmth and light return And the … Continue reading Anthem
Next Year’s Fruit
VII. No, leave that one on the ground. Don’t be fooled by the ruddy lustre captivating your tongue’s imagination. It looks like a crisp bite, a mouthful of firm flesh and sweet juice. Turn it over. See where the taut skin thinned, failed open to marauders. Leave it. Let it nourish next year’s fruit. K. … Continue reading Next Year’s Fruit
In the Quiet
IV. LORD, one of these days I’ll stop singing other people’s songs. Their words will die on my lips when a simple melody creeps out of my fearful heart and makes a dash for freedom, growing stronger in the light like all things good. K. Ashby
In the Quiet 